The List
by hbwgonnabe
Summary: Finished! Is it suicide or is it murder when the Hardy Boys tackle another mysterious adventure? But Joe suddenly disappears, and now, the Hardys must find their son before it's too late. First fic here please be kind!
1. Chapter One

Resume  
by Dorothy Parker  
  
Razor's pain you;  
Rivers are damp;  
Acids stain you;  
And drugs cause cramp.  
Guns aren't lawful;  
Nooses give;  
Gas smells awful;  
You might as well live.  
  
The List  
Chapter One  
  
"Fraaaaank!" screamed seventeen-year-old, blond-headed, blue-eyed, six foot Joe Hardy up the stairway to his inch taller, year older, brown-haired, brown-eyed brother. "Get down here. Now!"  
  
Hearing the urgency in his brother's voice, Frank got up fromt he computer and ran tot he steps, not bothering to close the file he had been working on. "What..." he started to ask but broke off as the loud wail of a baby filled the air.  
  
Frank increased his speed and found Joe in the living room with a baby lying on the coffee table. Joe was in the process of removing the baby's soggy diaper.  
  
"Where did that come from?" Frank asked, his eyes wide as he neared the baby.  
  
"The stork," Joe responded haggardly. "Go get the diaper bag, would you?" he asked.  
  
"Where is it?" Frank inquired.  
  
"Still on the back porch," Joe replied, leaning over and tickling the baby's feet to try and get it to quieten down.  
  
When Frank came back into the living room, it was much quieter. The baby was no longer crying, but Joe was making cooing sounds to keep the baby laughing. Frank set the diaper bag down on the sofa and pulled out a fresh diaper and handed it to Joe. Then he pulled out some wet wipes and baby powder. Sitting on the floor beside the table, Frank handed over the items and tickled the baby's chin.  
  
"So why do you have a baby?" Frank asked. "Who are you babysitting for?"  
  
"I don't know," Joe answered, avoiding looking at him.  
  
"What?" Frank demanded. "You mean someone just left the baby on the back porch?"  
  
"Not exactly," Joe told him, putting on the clean diaper. "There was this girl in trouble at the park. We talked and she mentioned something about not being able to take care of her baby anymore."  
  
"And?" Frank prodded, wondering what Joe had gotten them into.  
  
"I told her we would take care of it for a couple of days ans she could come back then and pick her up."  
  
"You what?!" Frank shouted in disbelief, startling the baby and causing it to start crying again.  
  
Joe shot Frank and evil look as he finished fastening the diaper and picked the baby up. "Shh, it's okay," Joe soothed the baby as he gently shook it up and down as she rested her head against his shoulder.  
  
"What's her name?" Frank asked, a frown on his face.  
  
"Annabell," Joe answered. "It's such a pretty name," he cooed at the baby.  
  
"I mean the mother," Frank said, fighting the urge to laugh at seeing Joe talk babyish.  
  
"I'm not sure," Joe answered, but refused to look at Frank for the second time in just a few minutes. "She just seemed to need help, so I voulunteered," he added.  
  
"Look, it's only for a couple of days," Joe coaxed Frank. "She was going to put her up for adoption or something."  
  
"And you honestly expect her to come back in two days?" Frank demanded.  
  
"If she isn't, we'll call Social Services and let them take Annabell," Joe said, although the look on Joe's face when he said it left Frank wondering if Joe would keep his word on this one. "Please?" Joe begged. "She'll be gone before mom and dad get back Friday."  
  
"All right," Frank finally agreed. "But she sleeps in your room."  
  
"Deal," Joe said, putting Annabell back into her bassinet. "But while I watch her, you need to run to the store and pick up a few things," he added, a huge grin taking shape on his face.  
  
"What for?" Frank demanded warily.  
  
Joe pulled a slip of paper fromhis shirt pocket and handed it to Frank. "They make a prepared infant formula now so we don't have to worry about that. But when you get back, we do need to sterlize the bottles before we put the formula in them."  
  
"We?" Frank demanded witht he lift of an eyebrow.  
  
"You can either watch the baby while I do them, or you can fix the bottles," Joe explained.  
  
Frank groaned good-naturedly and rose to his feet. "I have to go and save the document I was working on and then I'll go," he said.  
  
"School doesn't start for five more days," Joe said. "What are you working on?"  
  
"I got my course schedule in the mail this morning," Frank informed Joe. "Mr. Davidson always requires a twenty-five page autobiography during the first two weeks. I thought I would get a head start."  
  
"Only twenty-five pages?" Joe asked in all seriousness. "For you that shouldn't be a problem."  
  
Frank shrugged his shoulders and turned red. "I didn't want to write about the mysteries we solve," he said. "It would be too much like bragging."  
  
"What if he doesn't give the assignment this year?" Joe asked.  
  
"Katy Dolenz, the school secretary, said he had given this assignment every year since he started teaching in Bayport," Frank answered. "Sounds like great odds to me."  
  
"Why would she tell you that?" Joe asked.  
  
"I needed to make an appointment with the guidance counselor but she wasn't available so I talked to Ms. Dolenz," Frank explained. He went upstairs, leaving Joe alone with the baby.  
  
"Well, Annabell, just between you and me, I don't care what courses I get. Except for study hall," he amended. "That way, I won't have to bring home any homework."  
  
"What's wrong?" Frank asked Joe, noticing the frown he wore on his face.  
  
"I was looking at my course schedule for this term," Joe told Frank, looking up at him. "I got one I didn't sign up for."  
  
"What is it?" Frank asked curiously, reaching out and grabbing the card Joe held in his hands. "Creative Expression?" Frank asked, his face lightening up as he broke out laughing.  
  
Joe shot him a sour expression and snatched his schedule back. "Very funny," he growled. "They took away my study hall."  
  
"Poor baby," Frank cooed. "Now you'll have to take a book home once in a while." Joe narrowed his blue eyes at Frank and gave another low growl before taking off. Frank was still laughing at Joe's sour disposition as Joe climbed the steps leading up to the counselor's office.  
  
Joe rapped lightly on the open door and looked in at the new guidance counselor. A pretty woman with hazel eyes who wore her long blond hair in a pony tail was dressed in a pale blue linen skirt with an off-white blouse. She looked up at Joe's knock.  
  
"I..." Joe began but lost his train of thought when she smiled at him. She took his hand in hers and pulled him into the room. "I'm the new guidance counselor, Patricia Merriweather," she introduced herself. "But I insist everyone call me Patty," she continued, leading Joe to a chair and gently easing him down.  
  
She returned to her chair, still smiling brightly, and clasped her hands together on top of her desk. "Now, what can I do for you?" she asked, looking at Joe intently, her smile never waivering.  
  
"Uh..uh," Joe tried to speak but felt as if he had been sucked into a whirlwind. He held out his course schedule.  
  
Patty took the card from Joe and looked at it. "Was there something wrong with your schedule?" she asked him.  
  
"Uh, I wanted study hall, not Creative Expression," Joe said, finally regaining his senses.  
  
"I see," Patty said softly. "Creative Expression is a new course which is having it's debut here at Bayport High," she informed him. "I, uh, was asked to find students for the class," she continued, looking into his eyes. "I'm sorry," she added. "From your school records, I thought you would be perfect for the class."  
  
"Oh, uh," Joe stuttered, clearly unsure what he should do.  
  
"It's going to be an interesting course," she coaxed. "Music; art; poetry; things along that line."  
  
"Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to give it a try," Joe said with a slight shrug. "If I don't like it, can I have study hall next semester?" he inquired.  
  
"Of course you may," Patty readily agreed, giving Joe another brilliant smile. "I think you'll like your teacher," she continued. "Amelia Norway is a wonderful person. I met her two weeks ago and we've become great friends."  
  
Joe smiled at her and stood up. "I guess I had better get going or I'll be late for Algebra," he said.  
  
"Don't be a stranger," she said, standing up and walking him to her door. "Drop in any time."  
  
Joe made it to his Algebra class with a minute to spare. Seventeen-year-old, blond-headed, brown-eyed, Chet Morton had saved him a seat and waved Joe over as he entered the room. "Where have you been?" Chet asked as Joe sat down.  
  
"Guidance counselor's," Joe replied. "They switched a course on me," he explained.  
  
"I thought you only cared about study hall," Chet said with the lift of a brow as the bell rang.  
  
"That's the one they took away," Joe replied, then gave his attention to the teacher.  
  
After class, Chet followed Joe down the hall. "What did they give you instead?" he inquired.  
  
"Creative Expression." Joe said, wrinkling his nose in distaste.  
  
Chet broke out laughing. "You're kidding," he said. "Guess who else got saddled with that course?"   
  
"Who?" Joe asked warily.  
  
"Aaron Wissel," Chet replied, watching Joe's face.  
  
"That trouble maker?" Joe demanded in disbelief. He shook his head. "If nothing else, this class should be interesting if only because of the students."  
  
Joe opened his locker and put up his Algebra book. He shook his head as he closed his locker. "This is going to be a great year," he said sarcastically. "Even homework on the first day and from my first class yet!"  
  
Chet laughed as he stored his book in his own locker. He had homework too, but he didn't mind it as much as Joe did.  
  
Lunch time finally arrived and Joe joined his brother, Chet, and their friends, blond and beefy, blue-eyed, seventeen-year-old, Biff Hooper, wiry, dark-headed, dark-eyed, eighteen-year-old Tony Prito, bookish eighteen-year-old, sandy-haired, Phil Cohen who wore glasses covering his hazel eyes, Callie Shaw, a seventeen-year-old, blond-headed, green-eyed, girl who dated his brother, and Vanessa Bender, Joe's blond-headed, brown-eyed, seventeen-year-old girlfriend.  
  
"Okay, spill," Callie ordered Joe when he sat down with his tray.  
  
"What?" Joe asked, having no idea what she wanted to know.  
  
"Everyone is talking about the new course, Creative Expression," Vanessa told him. "It's a closed course so only the people who were reassigned can take it and Frank just told us you were one of the lucky few."  
  
"Oh," Joe said, his expression turning sour.  
  
"Aw, come on," Callie said, seeing his face. "It sounds like fun."  
  
"Study hall would have been funner," Joe insisted stoically.  
  
"Then why didn't you get it changed?" Frank asked with a frown.  
  
"Patty said..." Joe began, only to be interuppted by shouts from everyone. "Patty---Patricia Merriweather, the new guidance counselor," Joe explained. "She said everyone calls her Patty. Anyway, she said she was asked to pick out the students for this course and wanted me to try it for a semester," he ended with a shrug of his shoulders.  
  
"When is your class?" Chet asked.  
  
"Sixth period," Callie answered for him. "It's the only one being offered."  
  
"Why don't we all meet at Mr. Pizza after school and Joe can tell us all about it," Biff suggested, looking over the table at Joe.  
  
"Sure," Joe agreed.  
  
Frank's next class was at the opposite end of school so he left lunch a little early and headed down the hall. He was passing Principal Dylan's office when he heard something which made him stop outside and listen.  
  
"And all the students are still signed up for this course?" Frank heard Principal Dylan ask. "Even Joe Hardy?"  
  
"Relax," a bright voice assured him. "I spoke with Joe this morning," she continued, making Frank believe she was the new guidance counselor. "He agreed to a semester's trial period."  
  
"That's good," Principal Dylan said in a relieved voice. "I never would have thought Joe was a candidate for a class like this if you hadn't shown me that chapter in your book," he continued.  
  
"I know," Patty replied. "It's a shame there are so many students here at Bayport who have either tried to kill themselves or live in the same situations where others have committed suicide. But Joe Hardy," she added. "He's a classic textbook example of a suicide victim. Add the fact that his girlfriend was murdered before his own eyes and, well... I'm surprised he hasn't killed himself already." 


	2. Chapter Two

The List  
Chapter Two  
  
While Frank stood frozen outside the office, the hall began filling up with students. Frank finally continued on to his class, lost in thought.  
  
Joe arrived at his last class of the day with some trepidation. Joe had bumped into Frank before his previous class and Frank had looked at him really strangely. Almost as if he hadn't seen him before. Joe shook his head to clear the memory and entered the classroom.  
  
He knew all the students, of course, but none of them he would have considered as friends, except for one lone girl in the back with ebony hair and brown eyes. She smiled shyly when she saw Joe and raised her hand a little, then lowered it again. Joe smiled as he made his way to the empty chair beside hers.  
  
"How is Annabell?" Joe whispered as he sat down.  
  
"She's doing great," the girl replied. "Thank you," she continued. "I owe you so much..." she began, tears of gratitude clouding her brown eyes.  
  
"Shh," Joe soothed, reaching over and pushing her hair away from her eyes. "Don't cry, Valerie. We enjoyed having Annabell. And I'm glad you worked out things with your parents." She smiled at him again, but refrained from saying anything as the teacher chose that moment to enter the classroom.  
  
"Hello, everyone," the teacher said brightly. "My name is Amelia Norway. I know it's a mouthful so everyone can just call me Amy." Amy was a young woman, Joe guessed her to be in her late twenties, with long brown hair swept up into a pony tail. She had hazel eyes with little laugh lines at the corners.  
  
'Patty was right,' Joe thought. 'I do like the teacher.'  
  
"This class is about finding ways to express your emotions," Amy continued. "We will dabble in painting; sculpture; music; even poetry. At the end of the first grading period, we will have an exam. You will choose the method you prefer and define your life."  
  
"What?" Aaron demanded with a snarl. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his dark brown eyes boring into the teacher.  
  
"It will be like a biography," Amy explained. "But with a different format than the one which is normally created."  
  
"I still don't understand," red-headed, hazel-eyed, Ralph Hays said a bit timidly.  
  
"And you never will," snorted Tim Wyman, a greasy-haired, blue-eyed boy of eighteen.  
  
"Actually, it is a bit early for you to comprehend what I want. However, over the next few weeks, you will begin to not only understand, but, hopefully, use what you learn on a daily basis," Amy stated.  
  
"Right now, I would like for all of us to get acquainted," she continued. This remark was met by groans from everyone. "Let's begin with you, shall we?" she asked the tall skinny boy in the first row.  
  
The boy stood up. "My name is Fred Perry. I'm a sophmore," he added, sitting back down.  
  
"Were you born in Bayport?" Amy inquired.  
  
"Yeah," was the reply.  
  
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Amy asked.  
  
"No," Fred answered, frowning at her.  
  
Amy apparently gave up on him and moved to the next student."What about you?" she asked.  
  
The petite brunette stood up. "My name is Paula Michaels. I was born in Florida but moved to Bayport to live with my dad last year when my mom got remarried. I don't have any brothers or sisters, that I know of," she amended with a grimace. "I'm a junior and don't plan on going to college," she added, sitting back down.  
  
"My name is Tim Wyman," said the next student, standing up. "I'm a senior, born in Bayport and I have a little sister. I'm going to Bayport University next year but I haven't decided what to major in yet," he ended, sitting back down.   
  
Next, it was Valerie's turn and she stood up. "My name is Valerie Gambill," she said softly. "I'm sixteen years old and a freshman," she added, pausing slightly and cringing inwardly as she waited for someone to comment on her age as a freshman.. "I don't have any brothers or sisters and I was born in Bayport."  
  
Joe smiled at her and stood up as she sat down. "My name is Joe Hardy," he said. "I'm seventeen, a junior and I have one brother, a senior here. I moved to Bayport from New York when I was six but I was born in California when my folks were on vacation." He finished speaking and sat back down.  
  
"Do you have any plans for after high school?" Amy asked him.  
  
Fred, Aaron, and Tim all broke out laughing while most of the other students just sniggered.  
  
"Am I missing something?" Amy inquired with a frown.  
  
"Everyone knows Joe is going into the family business," Tim told her. "His old man would kill him if he didn't."  
  
"Not to mention his brother," Aaron added.  
  
"I see," Amy said. "Joe?" she asked.  
  
"I'm going into the family business," he admitted, not with his usual grin because he was already sick of some of his classmates.  
  
"Okay," Amy said. "Who is next?" Each person gave the basics of their lives as had Joe and the previous students. By the time Ralph Hays had told everyone he intended to leave Bayport as soon as he graduated, it was time for the bell.  
  
"A few last words," Amy said as the kids began to get rowdy. She waited until they had quitened down before continuing. "No homework tonight, but tomorrow night's assignment, in case anyone wishes to get started, is to pick out a poem athat you feel has a special meaning to you and bring it to class to share."  
  
The bell rang and everyone left. Joe stayed behind long enough to help Valerie gather her books. "Thanks," she told him as they exited the room, reaching up and kissing him lightly on the cheek. "For everything," she added, taking off down the hall.  
  
"And what exactly was she thanking you for?" an angry female voice asked from behind Joe.  
  
Joe spun around, blushing slightly when he saw Vanessa glaring at him. "Nothing," he said unconvincingly with a shrug of his shoulders.  
  
"People don't thank and kiss you for nothing," Vanessa retorted.  
  
"Look," Joe said, running a hand through his blond hair. "It isn't something I can tell you about," he said, cringing at how it sounded as the words left his mouth. "Vanessa...."  
  
"Leave me alone!" she told him, stalking off down the hall and toward the exit.  
  
Frank and Callie, already outside, saw Vanessa rushing out by herself. "What's wrong?" Frank asked, rushing to catch up with her.  
  
"Ask your...your brother!" she shouted and started to take off but Frank captured her arm and pulled her to a stop.  
  
"I asked you," he said quietly.  
  
"Some girl was kissing him and thanking him and he wouldn't tell me why," she answered, calming down a little.  
  
"Maybe he had a reason for not telling you," Frank said.  
  
"Good one, Frank," Callie drawled , then looked over at Vanessa. "Did he kiss her?" she asked. Vanessa shook her head.  
  
"Joe loves you," Frank told her. "He wouldn't hurt you."  
  
Vanessa sighed. "You're right," she said. "I'm just jealous. But why wouldn't he tell me?" she continued.  
  
"I don't know," Frank admiatted. "But I'll try to find out," he promised her.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" Vanessa asked Frank, taking in his furrowed brow.  
  
"Nothing," Frank answered but was greeted with glares from Vanessa and Callie. "Okay, okay," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "But you can't tell anyone, especially Joe."  
  
"What?" Vanessa demanded, starting to worry.  
  
"I found out the purpose behind the Creative Expression class and why it's closed registration," Frank informed them. "The guidance counselor selected kids who fit profiles for potential suicide victims."  
  
"What?" Callie asked in disbelief.  
  
"I overheard her telling Principal Dylan that Joe was a classic textbook example," Frank added, his expression grim.  
  
"No way!" Vanessa declared. "Joe's got it together."  
  
"I stopped by the library and looked through a psychology textbook which is in the reserved section for teachers. Joe does fit the pattern," Frank stated.  
  
"Iola," Vanessa said softly, thinking about how much Joe had cared about her and lost her. Vanessa turned around and started back towrds athe school. She climbed the steps and almost crashed into Joe coming out of the building.  
  
"Whoa!" Joe said, catching her before she walked into him. "I'm..." he began.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, interuppting him. "I was jealous."  
  
"You have no reason to be," Joe told her, smiling down into her eyes. "You're the only girl for me."  
  
Vanessa reached up and kissed Joe on the lips. "I think you're kind of special too," she admitted, smiling into his eyes. "Come on," she said, taking his hand and dragging him down the steps. "We've got to meet the gang at Mr. Pizza."  
  
Joe rode with Vanessa while Frank offered to pick Callie up after she had dropped her car off at her hosue. "It's starting to get windy," Vanessa said when she got out of the car. She had parked near an alley and looked at the space between her car and the alley entrance. "You don't think I'll get a ticket do you?" she asked him.  
  
Joe came around to take a look. "You might," he told her. "You're almost even."  
  
"Great!" she moaned. "Well, go on in and put in our order while I pull out and try again."  
  
Grinning, Joe went inside. Seeing Biff and Chet in the back, he went to join them. The waitress came and he put in an order for four colas and a large supreme pizza. Vanessa appeared before the waitress had left and took a seat next to Joe.  
  
"Tell us about the class," Chet urged, not noticing Vanessa's sudden quiteness at his words.  
  
"Not until everyone gets here," Biff said, playfully jabbing Chet in the arm.  
  
Next to arrive were Tony and Phil, followed by Frank and Callie. Joe told everyone about his teacher, the other students and his first assignment.  
  
"Well, at least you don't have to write a poem," Chet pointed out.  
  
"Too true!" Joe agreed in relief.  
  
"I hate to break this up," Frank said, looking down at his watch. "But it's time we left," he said over an hour later when all the food had been consumed.  
  
"Yeah- homework," Joe said sourly.  
  
Frank paid the tab and left with Callie. Vanessa had volunteered to drop Joe off at home. Joe pulled out a slip of paper from his pocket as he and Vanessa left the building. "Homework in three subjects on the first day of school," Joe complained, looking at the paper. "Can you believe...." his sentence was cut short by a gust of wind as they neared the alley by Vanessa's car. The slip of paper flew from Joe's hand down the alley.  
  
Joe took off at a run while Vanessa cackled in mirth. Joe finally managed to grab the paper, coming to a stop halfway down the alley. His eyes narrowed on a little girl with black hair as she sat huddled by a trash can, a little brown bottle open in one hand and her other hand full of little pills.  
  
"What are you doing?" Joe asked harshly, rushing over and grabbing her wrist as she raised the pills to her mouth.  
  
She looked up at Joe in alarm, screamed and took off running, leaving the bottle and pills scattered on the rocky turf. 


	3. Chapter Three

The List  
Chapter Three  
  
Joe chased after the child but by the time he had reached the other end of the alley, she was nowhere to be found. So he went back to the trash can and picked up the pills, dropping them into the medicine bottle which had no label, and putting the lid on. He put the bottle in his pocket and hurried back to where Vanessa was waiting.  
  
"What are you going to do about Joe?" Callie asked as Frank pulled to a stop in front of her house.   
  
"I don't know," Frank admitted. "I'm still having a hard time accepting it." He looked over at her and pushed a strand of blond hair from her face. "I am going to talk to mom and dad though," he added with certainity.  
  
Callie leaned over and kissed Frank. "Joe's not going to do anything stupid," she told him. "Try not to worry too much?" she asked, lifting her eyes in question.  
  
Frank smiled then got out of the van and walked around to help Callie out. he walked her to the door, kissed her goodnight, then went back to the van. He arrived home and went into the living room where his parents were watching the evening news. "Where's Joe?" he asked, not seeing him.  
  
"He said he had to look up something online and had a ton of homework to do," answered his blond, petite mother, Laura Hardy.  
  
"What's wrong?" asked his father, Fenton Hardy. A former member of the New York City Police Department who had resigned to become a private investigator, he was now considered the foremost authority in his field. Just looking at his eldest son's face sent a little warning signal to his brain.  
  
Frank looked into the eyes of the man who's looks could be his own in twenty-five years. "Did Joe tell you about his new class?" Frank asked.  
  
"No," Mr. Hardy answered. "He was in too much of a hurry to get upstairs."  
  
Frank told them about the Creative Expression class, the conversation he had overheard, and about the chapter on suicide he had read in the library.  
  
"That's ridiculous," Mrs. Hardy asserted. "Your brother would never do such a thing."  
  
"Easy, Laura," Mr. hardy tried to calm his wife. "I think the first thing we should do is talk with the new counselor. What did you say her name was?" he asked Frank.  
  
"Patricia Merriweather," Frank informed him. "What about Joe?"  
  
"Until we know for sure what's going on with him, try to stay close and get him to talk to you," advised Mr. Hardy.  
  
"That's never been a problem," Frank replied. "Which is why this is so hard to accept."  
  
Frank went upstairs into his room. Joe must have just finished witht he computer because he could be heard moving around in his own room. Frank sat down at his desk, staring att he monitor. He debated about checking to see what Joe had been doing. He didn't like the idea of spying on his litttle brother, but if it might save his life, he would do so.  
  
Frank connected to the net and clicked on the history icon. Soon, Frank was staring in horror at a web page discussing the side effects of valium. "Why was Joe looking up this stuff?" he asked himself in a quiet voice as he logged off. He went through the bathroom which connected his room to Joe's and rapped gently on the door.  
  
"Come in," Joe called, not looking up from the book he was reading.  
  
"Hey, baby brother," Frank said, coming in and sitting down on the bed beside Joe. "What are you reading?" he asked.  
  
Joe lowered the book and shot Frank a sour face. "History," Joe told him. "Kramden wants us to have the first chapter read so we can discuss it in class tomorrow. Then I've got two pages of problems in Algebra and some more to read for chemistry. Why did they have to take my study hall?" he groaned, lifting the book and starting to read again.  
  
"Need some help?" offered Frank.  
  
"On the first day of school?" Joe demanded in surprise. "If I need help today, I might as well not go back tomorrow!"  
  
Frank laughed at Joe's mock outrage. "Want to play some chess?" he asked, trying to get Joe to talk to him.  
  
"Is something the matter?" Joe asked, laying his book down and looking at Frank in concern. "Did you and Callie have a fight?"  
  
"No," Frank replied, shocked Joe would think that. "Nothing's wrong," he asserted. "I just wondered if you wanted to play some chess."  
  
"Before I finish my homework?" Joe asked, staring Frank in the eyes.  
  
Frank gave an uncomfortable shrug. "I thought you might want a break," he said.  
  
"After dinner, okay?" Joe asked, still concerned over Frank's odd behaviour.  
  
"Yeah, sure," Frank said, standing up. "I guess I'll go check my e-mail."  
  
"No homework?" Joe asked with the lift of an eyebrow.  
  
"Just the bio I finished while you were babysitting," Frank answered. He looked at Joe questioningly. "You never did tell me who Annabell's mom is."  
  
"I can't," Joe told him. "I promised."  
  
Frank bit his bottom lip, the way he always did when he was frustrated, and nodded. "I'll let you know when dinner is ready," he promised, then returned to his own room, wishing he had been home when the mother had picked Annabell up.  
  
Dinner proved to be a strained affair. Mr. and Mrs. Hardy and Frank kept trying to get Joe to talk about himself or his class, but Joe kept steering the conversation back to baseball. After dinner wa sover, the boys retreated to the living room to play chess. Frank was just finishing setting up the board when the phone rang.   
  
"I'll get it," Frank offered, seeing Joe had a few men left to place on the board. "Hello?" he answered.  
  
"Is Joe there?" a girl's haggard voice asked.  
  
"Who shall I say is calling?" Frank inquired.  
  
"A...a friend," the girl responded above the wail of a baby.  
  
"Annabell's mom?" Frank asked.  
  
"Yes," she admitted. "Can I speak to Joe, please?"  
  
Frank frowned but held the phone out to Joe. "It's for you," he said.  
  
Joe came over and took the phone. He stared pointedly at his brother who had refused to move. "Fine," Frank said, and went into the kitchen.  
  
"Who was on the phone?" Mr. Hardy asked as Frank sat down at the table and rested his elbow there, putting his chin in his hand.  
  
"Someone for Joe," Frank mumbled, not really paying attention as his parents exchaged questioning looks.  
  
"I've got to go," Joe said, coming into the kitchen. "I'll be back soon," he promised.  
  
"Where are you going?" Mrs. Hardy asked.  
  
"To a friend's," Joe answered, going to the door and opening it.  
  
"Who?" Mr. Hardy demanded as Joe started outside.  
  
"I can't say," Joe replied, turning around to face his parents. "But she needs my help."  
  
"Can I come?" Frank asked, standing up.  
  
"No," Joe told him with a stern look, then looked back at his parents. "Please?" he begged.  
  
"All right," Mrs. Hardy agreed. "Call if you are going to be later than eleven," she instructed.  
  
"I will," Joe promised, smiling gratefully at her. "Uh, can I borrow your car?" he asked.  
  
"What's wrong with the van?" Frank demanded.  
  
"Nothing," Joe replied. "But I would prefer to use mom's car this time."  
  
"Sure, honey," she agreed. Joe thanked her and left the house.  
  
Joe drove over to Valerie's and hurried to the door. "I'm so glad you're here," Valerie said as she invited him inside.  
  
"Where are your parents?" Joe asked.  
  
"It's their anniversary and they flew to Boston to celebrate," she explained. "They won't be back for two days."  
  
Valerie walked over and picked Annabell up. "She's running a fever and I can't get her to stop crying," she told Joe, her eyes filling with tears.  
  
"Where's her car seat?" Joe asked. "I borrowed my mom's car," he added. "It will be easier to get the seat in and out."  
  
Valerie smiled at Joe's thoughfullness then told him where to find the seat. While he went to get it and put it in the car, she gathered up supplies for Annabell's diaper bag. Soon, Joe returned and took Annabell and put her in the car seat. Then he helped Valerie into the car before getting behind the wheel. A few minutes later, they arrived at the emergency room.  
  
After an hour's wait, Valerie took Annabell into the back with the doctor while Joe remained in the waiting room. He had been there, alone, for less than fifteen minutes when Vanessa came in with her mother, who was leaning heavily on Vanessa.  
  
Joe jumped up and ran over to help with Mrs. Bender. "What happened?" he asked in concern.  
  
"I was putting some bottles on the top shelf in the kitchen and missed my footing on the step stool coming down," Mrs. Bender told him. "I ended up twisting my ankle."  
  
While she had been speaking, a nurse came out with a wheelchair. Joe and Vanessa helped Mrs. Bender into it and the nurse wheeled her back to x-ray while Vanessa took the cilpboard and began filling out the information.  
  
When she had finished, she returned the board to the nurse at the desk and sat down beside Joe. "What are you doing here?" she asked Joe as anoather nurse entered the room. "Is Frank okay?"  
  
"Sir," the nurse came up to Joe befroe he could reply. "Your wife has fainted and your daughter won't quit crying. Could you please come with me?" she inquired.   
  
Joe looked over at Vanessa, cringing as he expected her tear into him. "You had better go," she said quietly, then got up and walked away from him, not wanting him to see the tears which had started to fall. 


	4. Chapter Four

The List  
Chapter Four  
  
Joe watched her walk away then followed the disappearing nurse into the back where she left him at the entrance to a room. Joe followed Annabell's cries and came through the curtain seperating the patients from the hall.  
  
The nurse there gave Annabell to Joe. Joe took her and began rocking her, speaking gently. "The doctor has already seen her," the nurse informed him. "She's just teething."  
  
"Teething?" Joe asked, a perplexed look on his face.  
  
"Her teeth are coming in and it's hurting her. To help ease the pain and help the process along, give her a teething ring to chew on. The ones that you have to get cold first are best, but the others work well also."  
  
"Thanks," Joe told her, smiling down at a gurgling Annabell. "What about Valerie?"  
  
"The doctor is seeing her now," the nurse told him. "Why don't you take Annabell back to the waiting room? Someone will let you know when you may see her."  
  
Joe carried Annabell and the diaper bag back to the waiting room and looked for Vanessa. Not seeing her, he sat down.  
  
Vanessa entered a few minutes later and seeing Joe with the baby, came and sat down beside them. "How is she?"  
  
"She's teething," Joe told her. "She's okay."  
  
"I meant your....the mother," Vanessa said.  
  
"Aw, come on, Vanessa. You know I'm not married," Joe said quietly, looking into her eyes.  
  
"But you are her father?" she asked, looking down at the familiar way he held Annabell. Joe just looked at her, his eyes reflecting hurt at her question.  
  
"Then what are you doing here with a baby and her mother?" Vanessa demanded.  
  
"Look, she needed help, so I volunteered. That's all there is to this," Joe assured her.  
  
"Who?" Vanessa demanded. Joe remained silent. "That girl who kissed you today," she said, her eyes widening in realization. "But, she's still in high school."  
  
"Shh!" Joe hissed. He explained to her about keeping Annabell for a couple of days before school started and about bringing them over to the hospital tonight.  
  
Vanessa leaned over and kissed Joe. "Thanks," he said. "But what was that for?"  
  
"For being such a wonderful guy," she told him.  
  
"Sir," a nurse said, coming from the back. "You can see your wife now but you need to leave the baby out here."  
  
"I'll watch her," Vanessa volunteered, holding out her arms for the Annabell.  
  
"Thanks," said Joe, putting Annabell in her arms and following the nurse from the room.  
  
"Hey," Joe said softly, going over to stand by Valerie. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Relieved," she answered with a smile. "Thank you so much for everything."  
  
"My pleasure," Joe replied gallantly.  
  
"Sir," the doctor said, coming into the room. "I'm Dr, Williams. Your wife is suffering from exhaustion. There's no need to keep her overnight but she does need absolute rest for at least twenty-four hours."  
  
"I'll see that she gets it," Joe promised before the doctor left.  
  
"Joe, you can't stay at my house," Valerie told him, her eyes wide.  
  
"You're right about that," Joe agreed with a little laugh as she stood up. "But you can stay at my house."  
  
"I can't!" she said, startled at the proposition.  
  
"Valerie, you don't have a choice. If you don't care about yourself enough to get some rest, then think of Annabell," he told her sternly as they returned to the waiting room.   
  
"Everyone is going to find out about her," Valerie said sadly.  
  
"Are you ashamed of her?" Joe demanded.  
  
"Never!" Valerie shouted, her eyes flashing angrily at the thought. "Just of what I did."  
  
"People make mistakes," Joe told her. "Granted, some are doozies, but Annabell is a miracle. You have to accept that and treat her as such."  
  
"So, I'm suppossed to advertise I'm a sixteen-year-old unwed mother?" she demanded.  
  
"No," Joe said. "But you need to stop hiding."  
  
They reached the waiting room and found Vanessa and Mrs. Bender, her ankle bandanged and propped up on the leg of the wheelchair, playing with Annabell.  
  
"Vanessa, Mrs. Bender, I would like you to meet Valerie Gambill. Annabell's mom," Joe introduced the ladies.  
  
"Hello, Valerie," Mrs. Bender greeted her. "You have a lovely daughter."  
  
"Thank you," Valerie replied, smiling tenderly at her daughter as she took her from Vanessa.  
  
"How's the ankle?" Joe asked Mrs. Bender.  
  
Vanessa's mom made a face. "Bad sprain," she replied. "I'm on crutches for at least a week."  
  
"That's too bad," Joe said. "Thank's for watching Annabell," he added to Vanessa, bending down and giving her a quick kiss on the lips.  
  
"She's sweet," Vanessa responded. "What did the doctor say about you?" she asked Valerie.  
  
"Complete rest for twenty-four hours," Joe answered for her. "I'm taking her and Annabell home with me. Mom might enjoy having a baby around for a little while."  
  
"If you need any help, call me," Vanessa offered, standing up. Joe gave her another kiss, this one on the cheek, then he, Valerie and Annabell followed Vanessa and her mom out of the hospital.  
  
"I'll swing by your house so you can get what you need," Joe told Valerie once they were ont heir way. "But first, let's stop and get Annabell's teething rings."  
  
"Thank you," she told him. It took only minutes to pick up the teething rings and then they were on their way to Valerie's. When they arrived, the lights in the living room were on.  
  
"Honey! Where have you been?" demanded an older woman who favored Valerie. "We've been worried sick."  
  
"I thought Annabell was sick," Valerie explained to her mother and father who had come running when he heard voices. "She's not though," she added quickly. "She's just teething."  
  
"But Valerie is," Joe added, still standing in the doorway, holding a sleeping Annabell. "The doctor said she needed at least twenty four hours of complete rest."  
  
"I told you I had a feeling we should come back early," Mrs. Gambill told her husband.  
  
Mr. Gambill was looking at Joe. "Who are you?" he demanded.  
  
"This is Joe Hardy," Valerie introduced him to her parents. "The boy who watched Annabell when I came back last week," she continued. "When Annabell started running a fever, I didn't know what to do, so I called for Joe."  
  
"Thank you," Mrs. Gambill said, smiling over at Joe. Mr. Gambill never said anything but the way he kept staring suspiciously at Joe made Joe think Valerie hadn't told her parents who Annabell's father was.  
  
"I'd better get home," Joe said, giving Annabell to Mrs. Gambill. "Nice meeting you."  
  
"Thanks for everything, Joe," Valerie said again as he left.  
  
It was a quarter till eleven when Joe pulled into his driveway. He got out of the car, stretched and yawned, then headed inside. His parents were in the living room, getting ready to watch the eleven o'clock news before retiring. "Thanks for letting me use your car," Joe said to his mom, giving her a peck on the cheek. "Night."  
  
"Night, honey," Mrs. Hardy said, smiling fondly up at him.  
  
"Goodnight, Son," Mr. Hardy said from his chair.  
  
"Night, Dad," Joe replied then headed upstairs. Going into his room, he pulled out a pair of pajamas from the dresser drawer and tossed them on his bed. Then he pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and laid it on the dresser. Frank came to the doorway and watched as Joe reached into his left pocket and pulled out his keys.  
  
"Everything all right?" Frank asked, watching Joe drop the keys onto the dresser.  
  
"Yeah," Joe answered, pulling his shirt off.  
  
Frank waited to see if he would elaborate, but all Joe did was put on his pajamas. "Well, night then," Franks said and went back to his own room.  
  
"Night," Joe responded, picking up his dirty clothes and following Frank as far as the bathroom. He dropped the clothes in the hamper then brushed his teeth while Frank turned off his light and crawled into bed. Ten minutes later, both boys were asleep.  
  
"Up and at'em, Joe," Frank said, coming into Joe's room the next morning and pulling the cover off of Joe. "Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes," he added before leaving Joe to get up and get dressed.  
  
It was their standard routine. His mom would wake Frank up and tell him breakfast would be ready in half an hour then Frank would get ready before waking Joe who complained if it were more than ten minutes before he had to be downstairs.  
  
Frank went downstairs to see if his mom needed any help, but as he entered the kitchen, the phone rang. "I've got it," he told his mom, who stood near the stove, and his dad, who was in front of the refrigerator holding a jug of orange juice.  
  
"Hey, how did it go?" came a voice Frank recognized instantly as Vanessa's.  
  
"How did what go?" Frank asked, confused.  
  
"With the baby?" Vanessa clarified.  
  
"Joe told you about that?" Frank demanded.  
  
"I was there," she said.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Frank demanded an explanation.  
  
"If you don't know, then I'm not sure I do," Vanessa answered, frustrating Frank even more. "I'll talk to Joe at school. Bye," she said, hanging up.  
  
"This is really starting to annoy me," Frank said, slamming down the phone.  
  
"Who was it?" asked Mrs. Hardy.  
  
"Vanessa," Frank answered.  
  
"What did she want?" Mr. Hardy inquired.  
  
"I don't know," Frank said. "She didn't know for sure," he added. "Apparently, only Joe knows and he's not talking!"  
  
"Calm down," ordered Mr. Hardy. "We can't confront Joe with anything until we have talked to the counselor."  
  
"Frank, would you watch the pancakes?" his mom asked. "I need to put in a load of clothes."  
  
"Sure," Frank agreed, coming over to the stove. "Want me to go get our clothes first?" he asked.  
  
"I raided your hamper before I woke you," she replied with a smile, heading for the laundry room.  
  
Frank flipped the pancakes and got down some plates. "I can't stand Joe keeping secrets from me," he grumbled to his father.  
  
"Fenton!" Mrs. Hardy called to her husband from the laundry room, her voice urgent.  
  
Frank and Mr. Hardy rushed in to see what was wrong. She stood by the washer, Joe's pants lying on top, his pockets turned inside out. In her hand she held a medicine bottle which she had opened.  
  
Mr. Hardy took the bottle and looked at the little yellow pills. "What's Joe doing with a bottle of valium?" he asked, looking as confused and scared as his wife. 


	5. Chapter Five

The List  
Chapter Five  
  
Frank's face had gone a deathly shade of white. He told his parents about Joe's visit online the previous afternoon.  
  
"HEY!" a startled shout came from the kitchen. They rushed back into the kitchen to find Joe, potholders in hand, moving the frying pan from the stove.  
  
"I guess we're having cereal for breakfast?" he asked, raising one eyebrow at his family as they stood watching him. "Where did everybody go anyway?"   
  
"I..uh...couldn't get the washer to start," his mother invented.  
  
"I can fix it," offered Joe.  
  
"Dad got it," Frank replied.  
  
"Maybe a pop tart?" Joe asked, looking at the clock as he dumped the charred pancakes into the trash.  
  
Frank grabbed a box of pop tarts from the cabinet and removed two packs. Joe downed a cup of juice, as did Frank, then they grabbed their backpacks and headed for the van. They had finished their breakfast by the time they arrived at campus and rushed inside, barely getting to their homerooms before the bell rang.  
  
Frank had just arrived at his French class when he was told to report to the guidance counselor's office. When he got there, he saw his parents had all ready entered and been seated. Frank introduced himself to the counselor and took a seat.  
  
"Now, you said you wanted to discuss Joe, but you didn't want him to know about this meeting," Patty began. "May I ask why not?"  
  
"Because of the Creative Expressions class," Frank said and told her about what he had overheard.  
  
"I see," she said when he had finished speaking. "To begin with, this class was created to help certain types of kids learn how to deal with stress and express themselves so others might be able to detect a sign if something is wrong. Only one student in this class has actually attempted suicide, but they all have suicidal traits which have been observed in victims of suicide. I'm sorry to say this," she continued, "but Joe does seem to fit the most common pattern."  
  
"And what pattern is that?" asked Mrs. Hardy, holding her husband's hand.  
  
"A lot of suicide victims have an older, more intelligent brother. Someone they are always trying to compete with both on the physical level and as an object of a parent's affection. The person is usually more athletic and more outgoing than his brother as an attempt to gain attention from a certain individual, usually, the father.  
  
"Joe not only has these traits, but he has also been exposed to agony, misery and even pain just by his interest in being a detective. I also have been told he witnessed the murder of his girlfriend just last year," Patty concluded.  
  
"Yeah," Frank admitted. "He wouldn't say a word for almost two days."  
  
"He strikes me as a very sensitive person. Oh, not on the outside, but from everything I have heard about him, he's a very caring individual," Patty commented.  
  
"Is there anything we can do to help him?" asked Mrs. Hardy, her eyes full of worry.  
  
"Is there something I should know?" Patty asked.  
  
"We found a bottle of Valium in Joe's pocket this morning," Mr. Hardy informed her. "Laura found them when she started to do the laundry."  
  
"The fact that you found the bottle could be a good sign," Patty told them. "He may have sub-consciously left them for you to find."  
  
"So, what can we do?" Frank repeated his mother's question.  
  
"Listen to him when he tries to tell you something. Try and get him to do things with the family," she suggested. "Keep an eye on his grades and personal appearance. These are two warning signs that something is going on you should know about," she stressed.  
  
"What about secrets?" Frank asked. "He used to tell me everything, but now he is shutting me out."  
  
"Don't badger him but stay close," advised Patty. "Try to make him feel comfortable enough to tell you anything."  
  
It was almost time for the bell and since Mr. and Mrs. Hardy didn't want their visit known, they thanked Patty and left. Frank returned to his French class in time to get his assignment.  
  
Phil caught up with Frank after class. "What's going on?" he asked.  
  
Sandy-haired, brown-eyed, eighteen-year-old Phil Cohen was Frank's best friend. Frank sighed as he came to a stop in front of his locker. "It's Joe," he admitted and told him what was going on.  
  
"There's got to be an explanation," Phil asserted when Frank had finished. "Joe's not the type."  
  
"But he is," Frank pointed out. "The type, I mean."  
  
"No," Phil denied. "Give Joe time. I'm sure he found those pills and meant to tell you about them but just forgot."  
  
"And what about Annabell?" Frank demanded.  
  
"You said he made a promise," Phil reminded him. "It's not his secret to tell."  
  
"Even to me?" Frank agreed. Phil shot him a look which clearly asked Frank what he would do.  
  
"Okay, okay," Frank said. "But I'm still going to stick close to Joe and try to be nice to him."  
  
"You? Nice to Joe?" Phil demanded, his eyes wide in mock shock. "Now, there's a novel idea."  
  
Later, the bell rang for sixth period and Aaron and Tim came into the class room before the sound had ended. Tim saw Joe sitting in the back where he had been the previous day and went back and took the seat Valerie had occupied the day before.  
  
Amy came into the room, closing the door behind her. "Okay, class, today I want the room divided into four groups. Let's see, there are twenty-eight present so seven people per group." She opened the drawer and pulled out a book. "Let's see who is missing," she said.  
  
"Valerie Gambill," Joe said. Amy looked at him. "She's sick," he added.  
  
"Thank you, Joe," she said, smiling at him.  
  
"Todd, Jimmy and Randy are out too," Paula said.  
  
"Thank you Paula," Amy stated, closing her attendence book. "Now, what I want each group to do is take out a sheet of paper. You only need one sheet per group," she specified as most of the students opened their notebooks.  
  
"I want each group to think of things they have in common," Amy continued. "At least ten items for this list but if can come up with more it will be taken as extra credit." She smiled as she finished. "You may begin."  
  
"This is the weirdest class I have ever had," Ralph grumbled, pulling up a chair next to Tim and Joe.  
  
"You can say that again," Aaron agreed, sitting next to Ralph.   
  
"Maybe that can be first on our list," said blond-headed, blue-eyed Craig Sommers, sitting down next to Joe.  
  
"I thought this was a closed course," Paula said, joining the group and staring at Craig.  
  
"It was on my schedule," Craig answered. "I just had to leave early yesterday."  
  
"We need one more," Joe observed, intervening in the conversation when he noticed Paula's eyes shoooting daggers at Craig's laid back style. He looked over and saw Fred standing by the window. "Want to join our group?" Joe asked him.  
  
Fred shrugged but came over and sat down.  
  
"Who's going to keep track?" Joe asked.  
  
"I will," Tim volunteered, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pen. "Okay. We're all agreed this is a strange class for high school?" he asked.  
  
Everyone looked at Joe whose eyes shot open wide. "Don't look at me," he argued. "I wanted study hall." Paula laughed and Tim wrote down taking weird class as number one on the list.  
  
"What about sports?" Tim asked. "What kind does everyone like?"  
  
"I hate all sports," Paula said.  
  
"Me too," Ralph agreed.  
  
"That won't make the list. Joe and Craig are both athletes," Tim pointed out.  
  
"Does everyone like the beach?" Joe asked. Another round of agreement made the beach number two on the list.   
  
"Pizza?" asked Paula, and it made number three.  
  
"This isn't so hard after all," Aaron noted. "How about rock and roll?" Tim added it to the list.  
  
Things slowed down a bit after that and class was almost over and they only had nine things on the list. "Okay," Joe said. "One more for the minimum. Any ideas?"  
  
Aaron leaned back in his chair with a snort. "And I said this was easy?"  
  
"I have an idea," Paula said. "Let's all empty our pockets and see if we can come up with one item we all carry?"  
  
Although the idea was met with grumbling, all seven teens emptied their pokets onto their desks. Everything from lipstick to rubberbands lay in front of the group. There was a sudden crash as the desk behind Joe crashed to the floor. Joe and Tim picked it up then sat back down at their own desks.  
  
"Anyone a klutz besides Joe?" Ralph asked.  
  
"Ha ha," Joe retorted. "I never touched it."  
  
"Whatever," Aaron said. "Let's get this over with."  
  
After scrounging around, they finally managed to find one personal item they all carried. A comb. Tim wrote it down as the bell rang announcing the end of the school day.  
  
"Please, everyone, sign you name at the top of the sheet and leave it on my desk as you leave. Remember, tonight's assignment is to find a poem that you can relate to and bring it with you to class tomorrow," Amy reminded the class.  
  
Joe headed through the hall to his locker. As he reached for the lock, a hand was put on his shoulder and he was spun around.  
  
"What?" Joe asked warily, seeing Tim staring at him.  
  
"I've been wanting to see you in private all day," Tim snarled. 


	6. Chapter Six

The List  
Chapter Six  
  
Frank had decided to meet Joe at his locker instead of outside as he normally did. As he got within view, he saw Tim Wyman, one of the school's bullies, cornering Joe. He picked up speed as he hurried to Joe's aid, but before he could get there, Tim took off and Joe turned back to his locker.  
  
"Hi," Frank said, coming up beside Joe. "Wasn't that Tim Wyman?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah," Joe replied. "He's in my Creative Expression class," he added but never said why Tim had been talking to him outside of class. Joe grabbed a couple of books and closed his locker. "Ready," he said.  
  
Frank bit his bottom lip and followed joe outside. "We're meeting Callie and the guys at Mr. Pizza," Frank told Joe as they got into the van.  
  
"Great!" Joe said. "I'm starving."  
  
"Hey guys!" dark-eyed, dark-haired Liz Webling greeted the brothers as they joined their friends at a booth in Mr. Pizza. "Have you seen today's paper?" she asked, her eyes bright. Liz worked at the Bayport Times and was always up on the happenings around town.  
  
"We didn't get a chance," Frank said with a shake of his head. "Why?"  
  
Liz handed the paper she had been reading over to Frank. Joe leaned over to read along. "The Seventh Avenue jewelry store was robbed last night," Liz said as they read the details in the paper. "And the thief killed the guard!"  
  
"Why did the paper publish a list of stolen items?" Joe asked, lookinjg over at Liz.  
  
"Mr. Parrapet, the owner, insisted it would make it harder to fence the stolen items," she answered.  
  
"Maybe we ought to check it out," Joe suggested, looking at Frank.  
  
"Uh," Frank hesitated, not sure whether it was a good idea whild Joe was thinking about suicide, if he were, Frank amended, remembering what Phil had said earlier. "That's a good idea," he finally answered, looking away from the questioning look in Joe's eyes.  
  
"You okay?" Joe whispered later while Callie was chatting with Liz and Biff had gone to the bathroom.  
  
"I'm great," Frank declared. "Why?"  
  
"You didn't seem to want to look into the theft and murder," Joe said, watching Frank's face closely.  
  
"I do," Frank assured him. "I was just wondering if I would have time for that and an essay I have to do for English too," he fibbed.  
  
"Don't worry about that," Joe said with a chuckle. "I've got to keep up with my homework too. Speaking of which," he added in a louder voice after checking his watch. "We had better get going if we want to talk to Mr. Parrapet."  
  
Joe stood up and looked down at Frank. "I'm going to call Vanessa first and see how her mom's doing."  
  
"Her mom?" Callie asked. "Is that why she wasn't in school today?"  
  
"She came to school," Joe informed the group. "But her mom called during first period and she had to go hoime. Mrs. Bender twisted her ankle yesterday," he explained. "She's on crutches for at least a week.'  
  
"How did you find out?" Frank asked him, but Joe pretended he hadn't heard and took off for the phone.  
  
"Vanessa probably told him this morning," Phil told Frank as Biff returned from the bathroom.  
  
"No," Frank said, shaking his head. "Joe saw Vanessa last night but she nor he will tell me anything."  
  
"Joe's keeping secrets?" Chet demanded.  
  
"From you?" Biff added in surprise.  
  
Frank's face crumbled and he looked down at his empty plate. "What's going on?" Liz asked, her reporter instinct taking over.  
  
"Maybe you should tell them," Callie suggested. "They care about Joe too."  
  
"All right," Frank agreed with a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. "Joe...." he began but broke off when he saw Joe approaching.  
  
"It was busy," Joe said. "Let's go."  
  
Frank stood up and gave a brief nod to Phil which Joe never noticed. "See you guys later," he said.  
  
"Bye," Joe added, nodding at everyone.  
  
Frank and Joe arrived at the jewelry shop a little after five. When they walked into the store, the proprietor moved to the center of the counter. "May I help you?" asked the middle-aged man. He had thinning black hair and was a rather chubby five fiit seven, but he stood looking at the boys as if daring them to try anything.  
  
Frank smothered a grin as he stepped clsoer to the counter with Joe staying a few feet behind. "My name is Frank Hardy and this is my brother Joe," Frank introduced himself to the man. "We were wondering if we could speak with Mr. Parrapet."  
  
"I am Mr. Parrapet," the man stated. "It's almost closing time," he continued. "Perhaps if you two would care to return tomorow?"  
  
"We don't want to purchase anything," Joe said, stepping up. "We would like to speak with you about the robbery last night."  
  
"I...I see," Mr. Parrapet said nervously, his eyes twitching. "Well...well, you had better just give my merchandise back," he said bravely.  
  
Joe's and Frank's eyes widened in surprise at the man's sudden bravaod until they heard a voice order, "Put you hands over your heads and turn around real slow."  
  
Frank and Joe broke out in huge grins, startling the poor man again by their behaviour, then they did as they had been instructed.  
  
"You are under...." the voice trailed off as Seargent Con Riley, a brown-headed, green-eyed man in his mid-twenties, recognized the boys. He and the two officers accompaning him lowered their weapons. "Do I need to ask what you two are doing here?" he asked with a friendly smile.  
  
"Hi, Con," Joe said as he and Frank put their arms down. "We just wanted to help."  
  
"Help?" asked Parrapet in confusion. "I thought you two were here to rob me again."  
  
"Frank and Joe are detectives," Con informed the jeweler. "But, you two are not to get involved in this one," he added to the boys.  
  
"Why not?" Joe demanded.  
  
"The guard, Kelsey Fenmore, was a cop. He worked here as a security guard in his off time," Con explained. "Don't take this the wrong way fellas, but this case has top priority and you two..."  
  
"Would get in the way?" Frank finished for him.  
  
"Look, I jsut don't want you guys to get hurt," Con told them. "This guy has already commited first degree murder on an officer. He's not someone you should tangle with."  
  
"We've tangled with worse," Joe pointed out.  
  
"Be that as it may," Con acknowledged. "But do this my way, huh?" he begged. "Besides, Mr. Parrapet isn't going to help you boys out."  
  
"Indeed not!" Parrapet assured them. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding and I do appreciate your offer, but I think the police can handle this."  
  
"All right," Frank said and grabbed Joe's arm, hauling him away before he could start arguing. "Let us know if you change your mind," he added, pushing Joe out of the door ahead of him.  
  
"You gave in awfully easy," Joe complained once they were back in the van.  
  
"They don't want our help and we need to get into a routine with school before we really start on another case," Frank pointed out, grateful Con had forbidden them to work on the case.  
  
"Are you sure you're okay?" Joe asked Frank for the second time that afternoon.  
  
"I'm fine," Frank assured him.  
  
They arrived home right at dinner time. Joe told his parents about the robbery and murder while they ate and after dinner they all played a game of trivia before the boys went to their rooms to do their homework.  
  
Breakfast the next morning went much better than the day before. When Frank and Joe sat down at the table, their mother gave them each a plate of scrambled eggs and sausage. The biscuits and gravy were already on the table. Mr. Hardy folded the morning paper and was preparing to put it down when Joe caught sight of a familiar face on the front page.  
  
"Can I see that?" Joe asked, holding out his hand for the paper. Mr. Hardy handed the paper over and watched as Joe read an article on the front page.  
  
"What is it?" Frank asked.  
  
"Craig Sommers," Joe replied, turning the paper around so Frank could see the boy's picture on the front page. "It says he died in a freak accident." 


	7. Chapter Seven

The List  
Chapter Seven  
  
"Who is Craig Sommers?" Mrs. Hardy asked, sitting down at the table.  
  
"He's one of the guys in my Creative Expression's class," Joe answered. "It says he had been playing tetherball alone and the line wrapped his throat, strangling him."  
  
"That's rough," Frank commented with a frown, wondering if it had been an accident, considering the class he shared with Joe.  
  
"Yeah," Joe agreed. "He was the coolest kid in the class."  
  
"You don't like the others?" inquired Mr. Hardy.  
  
"Some are okay," Joe admitted. "But there are a few who I could do without."  
  
"Like Tim?" Frank asked casually, still wondering what was going on the previous afternoon.  
  
"Tim's not so bad," Joe stated, surprising Frank.  
  
"Who is Tim?" Mr. Hardy wnated to know, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.  
  
"He's a senior in my class," Joe informed him. "He lives over on Brayman with his sister and mom." Joe dug into his breakfast, ending the conversation.  
  
"Want to go to the beach after school?" Frank asked Joe once they were on their way.  
  
"Sure!" Joe agreed, his face lighting up. "Maybe the girls can....." he stopped, remembering Vanessa had to help her mom out. "Why don't we wait?" he asked. "I want to drive out to the Benders and see how they are doing."  
  
"Great idea!" Frank agreed. "We can grab some take-out and furnish dinner to help out."  
  
"Sounds like a plan," Joe agreed as Frank pulled to a stop in the back of the school. "See you at lunch," he added, getting out and taking off.  
  
Joe hurried inside to his locker, grabbed his algebra book and headed for the gym. Tim had asked him to meet him there before first period.  
  
Frank had gotten inside and was on his way to his locker when he saw Joe going in the opposite direction of his first class. He started to follow but someone grabbed his upper arm, preventing him from following.  
  
"How's Joe?" Biff asked, stepping around in front of Frank and releasing him.  
  
"He still won't tell me anything," Frank replied, his brown eyes flashing in frustration.  
  
"I couldn't believe it when Phil told us Creative Expression was a class for kids who might be suicidal," Biff stated.  
  
"Shh!" Frank hissed. "No one is supposed to know."  
  
"Why did they put Joe in that class?" Biff demanded. "He would never do anything like kill himself."  
  
"I used to think so, but now I'm not so sure," Frank said. "He does have the same attributes as a textbook example and we did find those pills in his pocket." Frank shook his head. "If only he weren't keeping so many secrets."  
  
"Have you...." Biff began but someone fell into him. "Hey! Watch it!" he said, reaching out to help the guy up. The boy regained his balance and backed away, mumbling he was sorry and took off.  
  
"It's getting crowded out here," Frank observed. "And late," he added, looking at his watch. "We had better get to class."  
  
Joe entered the gym and saw Tim leaning against the far wall. He started over and Tim came to meet him. "Okay," Joe said. "Why did you ask me to meet you here?"  
  
"I tried to talk to you yesterday, but there were always too many people around," Tim told him.  
  
"So, talk," Joe ordered, looking at him questioningly.  
  
"I wanted to thank you," Tim said, causing Joe's eyes to shoot wide open in surprise before narrowing suspiciously.  
  
"For what?" Joe wanted to know.  
  
"For stopping my sister," Tim told him. He saw Joe still didn't know what he was talking about. "The girl in the alley with the pills," he explained. "She found them and didn't know what they were. When I found out she had taken them, I jumped all over her. She said she thought since I had them, they were candy or something. Then she told me you scared her in the alley and she dropped them," Tim ended, looking at the floor.  
  
"What were you doing with Valium?" Joe asked, concern creeping into his voice.  
  
Tim shrugged. "I just had them."  
  
Joe put a hand on Tim's shoulder, but he backed away. "I don't need your sympathy," Tim snarled.  
  
"That's a relief," Joe stated. "Because I wasn't going to give you any. You've got a kid sister who obviously looks up to you," he continued. "Whatever you do is going to affect her."  
  
"What do you know about it?" Tim demanded, glaring at Joe.  
  
"I've got an older brother," Joe reminded him. "And I idolized him for years. I still look up to him."  
  
The rage Tim felt seemed to vanish. "I don't know what to do," Tim admitted. "At times, it seems like the more I try, the worse things get."  
  
"Have you tried talking to anyone?" Joe asked, his voice almost drowned out by the bell announcing home room.  
  
Tim shook his head. "Jenny, my sister, is too young and mom is part of the problem."  
  
"Your friends?" Joe asked.  
  
"What friends?" Tim demanded with a curt laugh. "I don't have any real friends."  
  
"Yes, you do," Joe informed him. "Me. I'll listen and help in any way I can. But maybe," he continued before Tim could say anything, "you should start by talking to Patty. She is a licensed psychiatrist," he pointed out, remembering the diploma on the wall in her office.  
  
"I don't know," Tim replied hesitantly.  
  
"Well, think about it," Joe encouraged him. "And in the meantime, I'm here if you need to talk."  
  
"Thanks," Tim said, smiling at Joe. "I guess we had better move or we will miss first period as well as homeroom."  
  
At lunch, Joe noticed his friends acting decidely different. "Okay," he said, finally having had enough. "What's going on?" he demanded.  
  
"What do you mean?" Chet asked with a nervous little laugh.  
  
"Either tell me, or I'm leaving," Joe stated firmly, his blue eyes hard as he stared at his friends.  
  
"It's my fault," Frank admitted after no one had spoken and Joe started to gt up. "I told them about Annabell."  
  
"And?" Joe demanded, figuring there had to be more to it.  
  
"And none of us think it's fair for you to not even tell Frank who the mother was," Callie said, elaborating on the lie Frank had begun.  
  
"I promised I wouldn't," Joe said, his eyes reflecting hurt. "Would any of you want me to break a promise I had made to you?" he demanded, getting up and leaving anyway.  
  
He had only taken a couple of steps when Valerie stepped in front of him. She took his arm and turned him around, leading him back to the table. "Don't be mad at Joe," she begged Frank and the others. "I asked him not to tell. Annabell's my daughter," the sixteen-year-old informed the stunned group.  
  
She turned and looked at Joe. "You were right," she told him. "I did need to stop hiding. I am not ashamed of Annabell and it's okay if people know I'm a mother." She gave him a smile that lit up her entire face. "With friends like you, I can handle anything anyone throws at me," she said.  
  
"I owe you my daughter and my parents. If it wasn't for you, I would have put Annabell up for adoption and never returned home. I'll never be able to thank you," Valerie added.  
  
"You don't have to," Joe replied gently. "Just take care of yourself and Annabell."  
  
"Would you like to sit with us?" Callie asked the girl.  
  
"Thank you, but no," Valerie declined. "I need to go to the library before my next class. But thank you," she said again before leaving.  
  
"I'm sorry, Joe," Frank said, looking up at his brother who still stood there holding his tray.  
  
"We are too," Phil said, speaking for everyone as heads nodded their agreement.  
  
"That's okay," Joe forgave them with a grin. "But don't let it happen again," he added, trying hard to look stern, but failing.  
  
"Sit back down," Chet said, snatching Joe's tray from his hands and putting it back on the table.  
  
"Did Vanessa know?" Frank asked Joe as he sat down. Joe nodded and told them about the trip to the hospital.  
  
The group finished eating and got up to leave as an announcement came over the loudspeaker. "Classes have been canceled for the rest of the day," the principal said, causing cheers throughout the school. "All students please prepare to leave immediately."  
  
"I wonder what that's about?" Frank said a frown forming on his face.  
  
"Who cares?" Joe asked. "We're free."  
  
"But why were classes canceled?" Phil asked, picking up on Frank's train of thought. "They usually give us a reason when classes are canceled."  
  
"Let's find out," Joe said, carrying his tray up to the lunch room window. The others followed suit.  
  
"Maybe I ought to go and see what's wrong," Frank suggested. "I doubt Principal Dylan would like it if we all went charging into his office."  
  
"Fine," Joe said. "We'll meet you at the van. I've got to run to my locker anyway."  
  
Frank left for the principal's office and Joe took off for his locker while the others went outside.   
  
Joe had to pass by the room where his Creative Expression class was held to get to his locker. As he neared the room, he heard a drawer slam shut. Assuming it was Amy, Joe rapped on the door. Receiving no reply, he twisted the knob and pushed the door open, going inside.  
  
"Amy?" Joe called out, not seeing anyone. He turned to leave but never made it as something heavy crashed onto the back of his head. Joe fell to the floor unconscious. 


	8. Chapter Eight

The List  
Chapter Eight  
  
Frank knocked on the office door and went inside. Katy Dolenz, the school secretary, was the only one there.  
  
"Hi, Frank," she said, looking up from her desk as he walked in.  
  
"Hey," he returned. "Where is Principal Dylan?" he asked.  
  
"In the girl's bathroom," she answered him. Frank raised his eyebrows in surprise.  
  
"One of the students committed suicide," Katy told him.  
  
"That's why classes were canceled," Frank deduced.  
  
Katy nodded. "Yeah. The police and the girl's father are on their way over."  
  
"Who was it?" Frank inquired.  
  
"I can't tell you," she replied. "The police have to know first."  
  
"You just said they were on their way," Frank reminded her.  
  
"True," Katy admitted. "But until the police arrive and give a verdict, it's not an official suicide, so I can't tell you anymore. Don't ask," she warned him.  
  
"Okay," Frank said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Thanks." He left the office and went outside to the van.  
  
"Well?" Callie demanded.  
  
"Where's Joe?" he asked, his face wrinkling in concern when he never saw him.  
  
"He hasn't gotten here yet," Biff answered, a frown on his face too as he wondered what was taking him so long.  
  
Frank turned around and headed back towards the school. "Frank!" Callie shouted.  
  
He turned and saw their expectant faces looking at him. "One of the students committed suicide in the girl's bathroom," Frank replied. "But keep it to yourselves for now," he added, starting for the school again.  
  
The others joined him immediately. "We'll all look for Joe," Phil said.  
  
"Wait," Frank said. "Callie, will you wait at the van in case Joe does come out?" he asked, worried.  
  
"Sure," she replied and returned to the van.  
  
"Why is everyone so worried?" Chet demanded as they reached the entrance. "What could happen to him at school?"  
  
No one answered him as they all filed into the building. "Okay, I came from the office and didn't see him, so we'll start at Joe's locker and then break for a search," Frank said, starting up the hall.  
  
They got as far as the Creative Expression classroom when the door opened and Joe came out. "I thought you were just going to your locker," Frank said, his tone vaguely accussing.  
  
"I was, but I stopped off to see Amy," Joe replied, gingerly touching the back of his head. "She wasn't there, but someone else was."  
  
Frank came over to look at Joe's head. "Ouch!" Joe shouted as Frank touched it.  
  
"Sorry," Frank told him, frowning. "Did you see who it was?"  
  
"No," Joe said. "But I wonder what he was after in there."  
  
"He?" Biff demanded.  
  
"Could have been a girl," Joe said. "I don't know. But we need to find Amy so we can find out what he or she was after."  
  
"Not now," Frank replied.  
  
"Why not?" Joe demanded.  
  
"A girl killed herself in the bathroom," Chet informed him, cringing as his friends' eyes shot daggers.  
  
"Who?" Joe asked in surprise.  
  
"We don't know," admitted Frank. "We'll probably find out tonight on the news. But the staff are all busy. We'll have to atalk to Amy tomorrow."  
  
"Shouldn't we at least report the attack on Joe?" Phil asked.  
  
Frank glanced at Joe, looking back at Phil before Joe had a chance to see. "Not now," he said. "They've got their hands full."  
  
"I've still got to go to my locker," Joe said.  
  
"I'll go with you," Chet offered, and the two of them headed up the hallway.  
  
"What's going on?" Phil demanded after Joe and Chet had gone far enough not to hear.  
  
"There wasn't even a bump on his head," Frank said.  
  
"You mean, he lied about being attacked?" Biff demanded, his eyes wide.  
  
"I don't know," Frank replied. "I can't think of any reason for Joe to lie," he continued. "Maybe he's telling the truth. But if so, what could there have been in that classroom that was so important someone had to attack Joe in order not to be seen?"  
  
"You never used to doubt Joe," Phis commented.  
  
"I've never had a reason to," Frank retorted. "But with the way things have been lately," he stopped speaking for a few seconds and just shook his head a little as he ran a hand through his hair. He looked Phil in the eyes as he started talking again. "I'll do whatever I have to in order to keep Joe safe. Even if it's from himself."  
  
"Including spy on him?" Phil demanded.  
  
"If that's what it takes," Frank replied, not backing down.  
  
"Ready," Chet yelled out as he and Joe got closer. Joe looked at Phil and Frank curiously as they neared, but never said anything.  
  
"I wonder if they have any leads on the theft and murder at the jewelry store," Joe said after they had left their friends.  
  
"Maybe there will be something in the paper tonight," Frank replied with a shrug. "What kind of take-out did you want to take to Vanessa's?" he asked, changing the subject.  
  
"How about subs?" Joe suggested. "I could use a break from pizzas."  
  
"Me too," Frank agreed with a grin, driving on down the street to the Sub shop.  
  
The boys picked up subs, sodas, and chips, then got back into the van and drove to Vanessa's. "Hey!" she greeted them, coming out onto the porch as they started up the steps. "I didn't expect you two."  
  
"We wanted to stop in and see how your mom's doing," Joe replied. Vanessa led the way inside and the boys sat the food and sodas on the coffee table.  
  
"I was sorry to hear about your ankle," Frank told Mrs. Bender as he sat down.  
  
"Me too," Mrs, Bender replied, her hazel eyes sparkling. "It was nice of you boys to bring dinner."  
  
"And homework," Joe added. He still hadn't sat down. "I've got it in the van," he told Vanessa.  
  
"Well, go get it," she said, shooing him out of the door.  
  
"Valerie's folks were at home when Joe took her back to pick up her clothes," Frank told Vanessa after Joe had gone outside.  
  
"No wonder you didn't know what I was talking about when I called," Vanessa said with a little laugh.  
  
"Here we go," Joe said, coming back inside with his backpack. He opened it up and pulled out two books and a notebook which he handed to Vanessa. Then he gave her a slip of paper with her assignments written on it.  
  
"Thanks, Joe," she said. "I really didn't want to get behind with school just starting." She paused and wrinkled her brow as she looked from Joe to Frank. "What are you two doing here so early?" she asked. "School isn't even out yet."  
  
"Afternoon classes were canceled," Frank said. "Someone committed suicide in the girl's bathroom."  
  
"Who?" Vanessa asked, her eyes going wide.  
  
"We don't know," Frank answered. "We weren't allowed to see and they wanted her family and the police there before they would tell."  
  
"Maybe it will be on the news," said Mrs. Bender.  
  
"But it doesn't come on until six," Vanessa reminded her mother.  
  
"It comes on in fifteen minutes on the local readio station," Mrs. Bender said.  
  
"You're right!" Joe said. "I'd forgotten about the radio."  
  
"That's because you only ever play CDs," Frank told him playfully.  
  
"Yeah, well, what's your excuse for forgetting?" Joe demanded, grinning over at his brother. Frank made a face at him but never answered.  
  
"Vanessa, go get some plates. Joe, turn on the radio," Mrs. Bender ordered. "We'll eat while we listen."  
  
It wasn't too long after they had begun eating that the news came on. "And locally, a tragedy struck at Bayport High School when a young girl, Paula Michaels, died in the girl's restroom today. Afternoon classes were canceled and students sent home while the girl's father and the police were called to the scene. The police have labeled the death to be a suicide."  
  
Joe got up and flipped off the radio when the broadcaster moved on to another topic. "I can't believe it," he said, sitting back down.  
  
"You knew her?" Mrs. Bender asked.  
  
"We have--had a class together," Joe answered. "She just didn't seem the type to do something like that."  
  
Vanessa exchanged a look with Frank then reached over and hugged Joe. "What was that for?" he asked. "Not that I'm complaining," he added with a grin.  
  
"Just because I'm glad you're here," she answered him.  
  
Frank and Joe stayed awhile longer, then drove home. When they got there, Mrs. Hardy met them at the front door. "Joe, could you do me a favor?" she asked.  
  
"Sure," he replied. "What?"  
  
"I've been cleaning in the attic and I need your help moving some things," she said.  
  
"No problem," he said. "Just let me dump my backpack in my room and I'll go on up," he promised, heading upstairs.  
  
Frank moved to follow, but Mrs. Hardy put a hand on his arm preventing him. "Vanessa called," she whispered as she heard Joe go into his room. "She said she had to see you but not to let Joe know."  
  
"I'll go now," Frank said and turned to leave, wondering what was wrong.  
  
"Frank," Mrs. Hardy said before he had left. "She sounded hysterical."  
  
Frank gave his mom a quick hug. "I'll hurry," he promised. "Keep an eye on Joe." She nodded as he left.  
  
When Frank arrived at Vanessa's, she was waiting on the porch steps. As he pulled to a stop, she came running down the steps and threw herself at him. "Easy," Frank soothed her, holding her tight until she had calmed down enough to talk. "Now, what's wrong?" he asked softly.  
  
"I...I found this in my Algebra book," she told him, holding up a torn sheet of paper. "It must have gotten stuck in there somehow when Joe had it in his backpack."  
  
Frank took the paper from her and read it, his face growing white. He sank to his knees and started crying. Vanessa, also crying, joined him. 


	9. Chapter Nine

The List  
Chapter Nine  
  
Frank arrived home about an hour later. His eyes were bloodshot and he was dragging with the feeling of fatigue as he entered the house.  
  
"What's wrong?" Mr. Hardy demanded, jumping to his feet and rushing over to Frank when he saw him enter the room.  
  
"Where's Joe?" Frank demanded.  
  
"Taking a shower," Mrs. Hardy replied. "Why?" she asked, her own voice full of concern.  
  
Frank pulled out the paper Vanessa had given him and handed it to his father. Mr. Hardy began reading the paper out loud so his wife would know what it contained. "We do solemly swear that should one of us choose to die, then the rest of us will follow." Mr. Hardy's voice broke as he read. "It's a death pact," he said in a strangled voice.  
  
Mrs. Hardy peered over her husband's arm and looked down at the paper. "Joe signed it," she whispered in disbelief.   
  
"And Craig died yesterday in the tetherball accident and Paula killed herself today at school," Frank informed them.  
  
"How did she...?" Mrs. Hardy began.  
  
"I don't know," Frank said, knowing what she was going to ask. "All I know is the police declared it a suicide." He looked at his dad, his brown eyes pleading for a solution. "What are we going to do about Joe?"  
  
"I don't know," Mr. Hardy admitted. "But I do know we can't leave him alone for a minute. Go on upstairs and stay with him," he ordered Frank who took off at once.  
  
When Frank got upstairs, Joe was still in the shower. Frank quickly grabbed some eyedrops and took care of his red eyes, then went into Joe's room to wait. Less than a minute later, the water shut off and Joe came into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist and another circling his neck which caught the droplets of water as they fell from his wet hair.  
  
"Hey," Joe said, seeing Frank sitting on the bed. "Did you get the problem at the bank taken care of?" he asked, walking over to the dresser and pulling open a drawer.  
  
Frank's face took on a puzzled look as he wondered what Joe was talking about. Then he realized his mom must have invented the excuse to explain his absence. "Yeah," he said finally. "It wasn't too complicated."  
  
"Did you need any help with your homework?" Frank asked, changing the subject.  
  
"No thanks," Joe answered, turning and grinning at Frank. "Wait a month, then ask me," he added. Joe turned back to the drawer and took out a pair of pajamas.  
  
"Early to get ready for bed, isn't it?" Frank asked.  
  
Joe shrugged. "I'm not going anywhere," he replied. "Might as well be comfortable."  
  
"Not a bad idea," Frank agreed, smiling. "You do your homework while I take a shower and then we'll pop some popcorn and watch a movie. Maybe play some Monopoly," he suggested.  
  
"Sure, why not?" Joe agreed, slipping into his pajamas.  
  
By the time Frank had finished his shower, Joe had finished what little homework he had and the two boys went downstairs.  
  
"What do you two want for dinner?" Mrs. Hardy asked as the boys entered the living room. Frank explained about having subs earlier and then told her and his dad about wanting to watch a movie.  
  
"Sounds like a good idea," agreed Mrs. Hardy. "But how about a bowl of soup before we start, hmm?" she inquired with the lift of an eyebrow.  
  
"Good idea," Joe agreed. "That way we can catch the news first."  
  
Frank shot his mom a desperate look, not wanting Joe to see the news and be reminded of Paula's death. "Are you sure?" she asked Joe, catching the pleading look in Frank's eyes. "It wouldn't hurt to skip it and go straight for the popcorn."  
  
"No, really," Joe said. "I'd love some soup."  
  
"Okay," she replied, starting into the kitchen after shooting Frank an apologetic look.  
  
Joe flipped the television to the local station and sat down on the sofa next to his dad. A few minutes later, the news came on. The big story of the afternoon wasn't Paula's suicide as Frank had feared, but the robbery of the jewelry store.  
  
"I wonder if the police have any leads," Joe commented, looking at the TV screen where the camera was showing filmed footage of the theft. The robber, dressed in black from head to toe, could be seen pulling the jewelry from one case, then another. The thief suddenly stopped moving. He looked up, reached behind him and pulled a gun from the back of his pants and fired. Then the newscaster came back on the screen.  
  
"We stopped by to check it out, but Con ordered us to stay out of it," Joe told his dad.  
  
"I think the police can handle this one," Mr. Hardy told Joe, agreeing with Con.  
  
Joe just shrugged and started watching the news again as Paula Michaels' name was mentioned. Apparently, she had committed suicide by cutting her wrists open with a razor blade. After the news went off, Joe leaned back on the sofa, shaking his head. "This is weird," he said.  
  
Mr. Hardy put a hand on Joe's shoulder and squeezed. "I know, Son," he said. "It's always difficult when someone you know dies."  
  
"What?" Joe asked, then shook his head. "No, I mean the robbery," he said. "That guy looked familiar."  
  
"How could he look familar?" Frank demanded. "He was dressed in black with a ski mask on and never said anything."  
  
"I know," Joe replied with a slight shrug and a frown. "But there was something about him that made me think I knew him."  
  
"I've got soup and sandwiches ready," Mrs. Hardy said, peeping into the living room. "Let's eat in the kitchen and then we'll start the movie."  
  
After dinner, the boys went into the living room while their mom made popcorn. Mr. Hardy had excused himself to go see an old friend, but Frank knew he was taking the death pact to the police department.  
  
Ten minutes into the movie, the phone rang. "Frank, it's Callie," Mrs. Hardy told him after she had answered it.  
  
"Hi, Callie," Frank said, taking the reciever.  
  
"Frank, can you come over?" Callie's whisper came through the receiver.  
  
"What's wrong?" he demanded, gripping the receiver tightly as he recognized the urgency in her voice.  
  
"Mom and Dad went to Southport for dinner," she told him. "They've been gone about half an hour. I came upstairs, but now, I hear someone downstairs."  
  
"Lock and barricade your door," Frank ordered. "And call the police. I'm on my way," he added, hanging up.  
  
"Callie's in trouble," Frank told his mom and Joe, who had started paying attention when Frank had said 'lock and barrricade.'  
  
Joe stood up and started for the door but Frank shook his head and and pointed to the way Joe was dressed. Joe looked down and groaned. At least Frank had dressed in a pair of shorts and a sweat shirt. "Don't worry," Frank said, opening the door. "She's calling the police."  
  
After Frank had left, Joe picked up the phone. "In case she doesn't get a chance, I'm calling the police too," Joe told his mom.  
  
When Frank arrived at Callie's, the house was quiet. Frank peered through a window and watched for any sign of movement. Seeing no one, he went to the back door and tried the knob. It opened and he went inside, being careful not to make a sound.  
  
The kitchen furniture had been scattered around, but nothing else seemed out of place. He made his way through the entire ground floor and found nothing amiss. Then he started up the stairs even as he heard sirens coming closer. "Callie!" Frank shouted, going on up the stairs.  
  
He could hear furniture moving and then Callie's door opened and she threw herself at Frank. "It's okay," he said softly as he held her against him, running his hand down her hair.  
  
"Freeze! Police!" a voice shouted at them from the stairway.  
  
"It's just us, Con," Frank said, turning and recognizing the officer. "I didn't see anyone downstairs but I haven't looked up here yet," he added. Con nodded and motioned for his partner to go down one side of the hall as he went down the other.  
  
It didn't take long to conclude no intruder was still on the premises. "I think the intruder came in through the kitchen," Frank told Con. He looked at Callie. "The furniture is all out of place," he said with a puzzled frown.  
  
"We'll dust for prints and we'll need a statement," Con told Callie, who nodded her agreement.  
  
"I'll drive you," Frank offered. "But I had better call and let mom and Joe know you're okay first."  
  
After Mrs. Hardy hung up with Frank and relayed his message to Joe, the phone rang again. "Of course," Joe heard his mother say. "I'll be there as soon as I can." She hung up and looked over at Joe. "Why don't you get dressed and come with me?" she suggested, not wanting to leave Joe alone.  
  
"Where to?" he asked.  
  
"That was Mrs. Winebarger from down the street," Mrs. Hardy said. "Someone got into her flower garden and made a mess of things."  
  
"Why did she call you?" Joe asked, looking at her questioningly.  
  
"She said one of the kids passing by while she was looking at the mess mentioned how nice my garden looked and so she thought I might help her," Mrs. Hardy repeated what she had been told.  
  
"If you don't mind, I think I will stay here," Joe said. "I don't think Frank would mind if I finished the movie without him."  
  
"I'll call her back and tell her I'll help her tomorrow," Mrs. Hardy said, picking up the phone.  
  
"Don't be silly," Joe said, taking it away from her. "You act like you don't want to leave me alone," he teased. "I am seventeen, you know?"  
  
"But still my baby," she retorted, pulling his head down and kissing his cheek.  
  
"Aw, mom," Joe said, grinning. "Go on," he ordered her. She smiled at him half-heartedly and left.  
  
Joe went into the living room and sat down on the sofa. He picked up the VCR remote and started the tape. It didn't take long for Joe to become engrossed in the movie.  
  
A figure, dressed in black from head to toe, crept into the kitchen. He smiled as he pulled a strip of tape off the lock which had prevented it locking after Mrs. Hardy had left. He had put the tape on the door when Mr. Hardy had taken the trash out and returned to the house, going into the living room and leaving the door unlocked.  
  
He looked into the living room and saw Joe sittting on the couch watching TV. He pulled a cloth from one pocket and a bottle from the other. Then he opened the bottle and poured some of the liquid onto the cloth, closing the bottle and slipping it back into his pocket.  
  
He silently entered the living room and slapped the cloth over an unsuspecting Joe's nose and mouth. Joe's eyes shot up and he saw the masked intruder. He raised his arms and tried to pull the hand away, but his attacker was strong and he was growing weak. In less than a minute, Joe slumped forward.  
  
The cloth was removed and pushed back into the pocket from whence it had come. Then the attacker went into the kitchen and, making sure the pilot light was out, opened the oven door and turned the oven on as high as it would go.  
  
He then returned to the living room and dragged an unconscious Joe into the kitchen. He laid Joe's head and arms on the oven door and arranged his body to look as if Joe had been kneeling until overcome by fumes, and fallen.  
  
Smiling, the intruder left the way he had come, locking the door and making sure no one was about to see him leave. 


	10. Chapter Ten

The List  
Chapter Ten  
  
Callie was feeling better and more composed by the time they arrived at the police station. Mr. Hardy had just finished his conference with Chief Collig and was getting ready to leave as Frank and Callie arrived.  
  
Frank told him about Callie's visitor. "And nothing was taken?" he asked, a frown on his face as he puzzled over the situation.  
  
"Nothing," Callie stated. She looked at Frank. "I know you are worried about Joe," she said, Frank having told her about the suicide pact on the way over. "Why don't you go on home?" she suggested. "I can get a cab home."  
  
"That won't be nessecary," Con said, coming in. "I can run you back home and check the place over before I leave," he offered.  
  
"That would be great!" Callie told him, secretly relieved.  
  
Frank and Mr. Hardy pulled into the drive side by side and got out. "What did Chief Collig say about the pact?" Frank asked as they neared the house.  
  
"He's going to alert the other families," Mr. Hardy answered. "And he suggested we find a psychiatrist for Joe."  
  
"That's all?" Frank demanded.  
  
"Juat not to leave him alone," Mr. Hardy added.  
  
Mr. Hardy unlocked the front door and saw the movie still playing.  
  
"Joe?" Frank called out. "Mom?"  
  
"What's that smell?" Mr. Hardy demanded, a look of terror coming over his face as he rushed into the kitchen with Frank on his heels.  
  
"Joesph!" Mr. Hardy shouted, rushing forward and pulling him away from the oven. "Turn off the gas!" he ordered Frank, pulling Joe into a fireman's carry and going to the kitchen door. He unlocked it and carried Joe outside.  
  
He laid Joe on the ground and checked for breathing. He wasn't. He felt for a pulse. It was faint, but there was one. He began mouth-to-mouth as Mrs. Hardy came running up the street. Frank joined them in a moment. He had phoned an ambulance and opened the windows.  
  
Joe started coughing and Mr. Hardy put his hands beneath Joe's shoulders and lifted him to a sitting position. "Easy, Son," Mr. Hardy said gently, gripping Joe's shoulders to hold him steady.  
  
"Wh...what happened?" Joe asked, dazedly looking around.  
  
"Perhaps, you should tell us," Mr. Hardy said.  
  
Joe looked at the faces of his family and saw more than the usual concern there. He wasn't sure, but they looked hurt--almost betrayed.  
  
"I was watching the movie and then someone threw a cloth over my face," Joe said slowly, remembering what had happened. "It was the thief from the jewlery store," Joe said. "I blacked out. I don't remember anything more," he added.  
  
"What?" Joe demanded, seeing Frank look away and tears in his mother's eyes. "Dad?" Joe turned to his father, but even he looked like he didn't believe him. "What?" Joe asked again.  
  
"No more lies," Mr. Hardy said. "We know what's going on. We just don't know why," he added, his voice breaking.  
  
"Well, that's more than I know," Joe said a little bitterly. Someone had just attacked him and his own family didn't believe him. "What's going on?" he demanded.  
  
"Come on, baby brother," Frank said, holding out a hand to help Joe to his feet. "Let's go inside. The gas should be cleared out by now."  
  
"Not until you tell me why you are all acting this way," Joe refused, as the sound of the siren grew louder.  
  
"Are you feeling okay?" Mr. Hardy asked.  
  
"Do you care?" Joe countered, still confused about their attitude.  
  
"Is that what's wrong?" Mrs. Hardy asked, tears falling from her eyees. "You think we don't care about you? Oh, honey, we love you so much," she continued without giving Joe a chance to speak. She knelt down and pulled him to her. "How could you think we don't care?"  
  
Joe would have answered her, but an ambulance pulled up. "Where are the police?" Joe asked, looking up at Frank.  
  
"I didn't call them," Frank answered, his sad eyes looking at Joe.  
  
"But someone just tried to kill me!" Joe shouted in disbelief.  
  
"Easy, Son," said Mr. Hardy as the paramedics came rushing over. Mr. Hardy told them about finding Joe in the gas filled house, unconscious.  
  
"We had better take him to Bayport General," one of the paramedics said, looking Mr. Hardy in the eyes.  
  
"But I'm fine now," Joe argued.  
  
"You need a doctor to check you out," Mr. Hardy said, allowing for no more argument.  
  
Joe went in the ambulance and the rest of the Hardys closed the windows and locked the doors before starting for the hospital.  
  
"Why did they want Joe to go to the hospital?" Mrs. Hardy asked. "He seemed fine."  
  
"I told the dispatcher it was an attempted suicide," Frank told her.  
  
"Psychiatric evaluation," Mr. Hardy said. "We have to face it. Joe has a problem and he needs professional help."  
  
When they arrived at the hospital, they were told Joe was physically no worse from his ordeal, but a psychiatrist was with him now and they should have a seat and wait.  
  
Almost an hour later, a man in his late thirties entered the room. He approached the Hardys. "Fenton Hardy?" he asked.  
  
Mr. Hardy stood up. "Yes?"  
  
"I'm Dr. Castram," the man introduced himself. "I was asked to evaluate Joe after his attempted suicide."  
  
"And?" Frank asked anxiously. He and his mother had joined Dr. Castram and Mr. Hardy.  
  
"Are you positive it was an attempted suicide?" the doctor asked.  
  
Mr. Hardy told Dr. Castram about the note with signatures which had been found. "Why?"  
  
"Joe was very open and answered all my questions," Dr. Castram informed them. "Then he told me about a person dressed in black attacking him tonight. I pointed out that he didn't need to tell me anything but the truth. He gave me a funny look and asked what I had meant by the remark. So I told him I knew he had tried to kill himself. He asked why I thought that, so I told him that was what his family had told the dispatcher. He looked shocked, then refused to say anything after that. Not one word," the doctor stressed.  
  
"He's probably in shock to discover you knew he had tried to kill himself," Dr. Castram continued, after neither of the Hardys said anything.  
  
"Can you help him?" Mr. Hardy asked.  
  
"I'm not taking new patients," Dr. Castram answered. "But Dr. Steve Spencer is an excellent psychiatrist," he said, taking out a notepad and pen and writing down the man's name and phone number. "You can call him and set up an appointment."  
  
"Can we see Joe now?" Frank asked.  
  
"Yes," was the reply. "I'm going to sign his release form now. I do suggest, however, that you not leave him alone until he does get help. Not even to go to the bathroom. I know it sounds drastic, but it could keep him alive," he added as he walked away.  
  
The Hardys went back to where Joe was still sitting in a chair where Dr. Castram had left him. Joe looked up at his family as they came in. His eyes were filled with hurt and he looked like he might cry.  
  
"Hi, honey," Mrs. Hardy said, going over and putting a hand on his shoulder as she started to lean down and kiss him, but he jerked away.  
  
"Joe?" Mr. Hardy asked.  
  
"How could you?" Joe demanded softly, looking up and staring Frank in the eyes. "How could you think I would do that?"  
  
"Joe, we know," Frank replied, tears spilling down his cheeks.  
  
"Know what?" Joe demanded. "Why don't you tell me what you think you know?"  
  
"Son," Mr. Hardy said gently, sitting down in the chair beside Joe's. "We found out why they put you in the Creative Expression class," he began.  
  
"What?" Joe demanded, completely lost. "What does that have to do with anything?"  
  
Mr. Hardy explained the purpose of the class and why he had been put in it. "So you think I'm nothing more than words in a textbook?" Joe asked, wounded. "Because I fit some--some pattern, you think I'm no longer the same person I was before school started?"  
  
"Joe, listen..." Mr. Hardy began.  
  
"No! You listen!" Joe interrupted hotly. "I am the same now as I was last year and the year before. And so are you!"  
  
"Us?" asked Mrs. Hardy, taken aback.  
  
"Yeah," Joe said. "I may have all the attributes of a classic suicide case, but I have something they obviously didn't."  
  
"What?" Frank demanded.  
  
"A family who cares and loves him no matter what. See, I do know you. It wouldn't matter what I did, I know you'll always be there for me. And as long as I know that, I'll never be alone. And loneliness is a big factor in suicide," he added.  
  
"How do you know?" Frank asked, his expression curious.  
  
Joe told them about the girl in the alley with the pills and how they had belonged to her brother and how he just needed someone to talk to. "But I don't know what I did with the pills," Joe said. "I lost them, then just forgot about them."  
  
Mrs. Hardy looked releived to hear about the pills, but Frank and Mr. Hardy still looked shaken. "Then why did you sign that suicide pact?" Mr. Hardy demanded.  
  
"What?" Joe almost screamed, his eyes going wide.  
  
"Don't deny it," Frank told him. "It had your name in your writing."  
  
"I never!" Joe erupted.  
  
Mr. Hardy told him what the note said. "I never signed anything like that!" Joe insisted again.  
  
"It had your name on it and Craig Sommers and Paula Michaels," Frank told him, wishing he could believe Joe, but still not convinced Joe was being open.  
  
"Were there any other names on the list?" Joe asked, a thoughtful expression on his face.  
  
"Fred Perry, Ralph Hayes..." Frank continued.  
  
"And Aaron Wissel and Tim Wyman," Joe finished for him.  
  
"You did sign it," Frank said sadly.  
  
"Kind of," Joe admitted. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

The List  
Chapter Eleven  
  
"What do you mean? Kind of?" Frank demanded. He now knew, without a doubt, Joe wasn't suicidal. But he also knew, from Joe's remark, that Joe had an idea about what was going on.  
  
"You found that list after I was attacked at school, didn't you?" Joe asked.  
  
Frank nodded. "Vanessa found it in one of the books you gave her. Why?"  
  
"Amy had us seperate into groups and make a list of things everyone in the group had in common. The names on that list are all the names of the kids in the group I was in," Joe explained.  
  
"So whoever knocked you out was stealing the list when you interrupted them," Frank deduced. "But it would have to be someone who knew about the assignment and knew the purpose behind the class," he continued. "Otherwise, why try to make it look like a suicide?"  
  
"Also, was Craig's death an accident and did Paula really commit suicide?" Joe asked. Mr. Hardy looked at Joe quizzically. "Craig was killed just after class that day," Joe explained.  
  
"But his death wasn't even considered to be a suicide," Frank pointed out.  
  
"What if the killer never thought of the suicide angle until later?" Joe asked, grinning.  
  
"Then..." Frank began, then saw Joe's grin. "Why are you smiling?" he demanded. "Someone is trying to kill you."  
  
"Exactly!" Joe happily agreed. Frank looked at him in shock as did his parents. "You believe me!" he said, his grin growing bigger.  
  
"Aw, baby brother," Frank said, giving Joe a big hug. "I'm so sorry I ever doubted you."  
  
"We are too," Mr. Hardy said, smiling at his son in relief for a brief moment. "But is someone trying to kill everyone who was in your group, or are they only after you and killing the others to cover their tracks?" he asked, frowning.  
  
"I can't answer that," Joe said. "But whatever is going on, it has to do with the theft and murder at the jewelry store."  
  
"Why are you so sure?" Mr. Hardy asked him.  
  
"I don't know," Joe responded wearily. "But the guy, even in his black outfit and mask, seemed familiar. And the guy that attacked me tonight, although I only saw him from the waist up, was wearing the same clothes."  
  
Joe shook his head as if trying to clear it. "I know this person," he insisted, thinking out loud. "If I could just put my finger on what seems unique about him, maybe I could place him."  
  
"I think we should go down to the police station," Mr. Hardy said thoughfully. "Maybe we can get a copy of the surveillance tape."  
  
They dropped Mrs. Hardy off at home then continued to police headquarters. "Dad," Joe said, on the way. "I realize you know I don't need this class at school anymore, but could I keep it until the end of this semester anyway?"  
  
"If you like," Mr. Hardy agreed with a puzzled frown.  
  
"Why?" Frank voiced the question his dad wanted to ask.  
  
"Because of the other students," Joe said. "Valerie and Tim mainly. I don't want them to feel like I've deserted them."  
  
"You're willing to give up study hall to hang out for an hour with them?" Frank asked.  
  
Joe shrugged. "I wouldn't want them to think they didn't have anyone to talk to," he replied.  
  
"I'm proud of you, Son," Mr. Hardy said.  
  
"Me too," Frank concurred.  
  
Mr. Hardy pulled to a stop close to the station and they all got out and went inside. Con wasn't there, but Chief Collig was still in his office, so they went in to see him. Mr. Hardy explained about the note and told him about the attack on Joe earlier that evening.  
  
"I've been thinking," Frank spoke up. "The killer had to get Joe alone, so maybe he was the one who broke into Callie's earlier."  
  
"He would have to of known you and she were dating," Mr. Hardy pointed out.  
  
"And what about mom?" Joe asked. "How would he have known she would leave later even if he was the one who broke in Callie's?"  
  
"It was just a theory," Frank replied with a shrug.  
  
"I'm glad things weren't as they appeared to be," Chief Collig said, smiling at Joe. "I'll get a copy of the tape brought up here," he continued. "And when Con comes back on duty, I'll have him get in touch with you."  
  
A few minutes later, a tape was brought into Collig's office. He put the tape in his VCR and turned the TV on, before handing Joe the remote. Joe played the tape four times before stopping it and ejecting it. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just can't figure out what makes him familiar."  
  
"But you're positive he is?" Chief Collig pushed.  
  
"Yes," Joe affirmed.   
  
"Take the tape home," Collig told him. "It's a copy. Maybe you can figure it out later."  
  
"Okay," Joe agreed. "Dad said he gave you the suicide pact with the signatures on it," he added.  
  
"That's right," Collig admitted. "I alerted the parents of the other students on the list to keep an eye on their children."  
  
"Do you still have the list?" Joe asked.  
  
"Yes," Collig admitted. "Why? I thought you never signed the agreement."  
  
"I signed the paper and so did the other students," Joe said. "But the actual agreement wasn't there when we signed. Have you thought about who could have written it?"  
  
"That's right!" Frank agreed, picking up on Joe's train of thought. "Whoever wrote it has to be the killer."  
  
"I'll have the handwriting anaylzed," Collig promised. "What was the name of your teacher?" he asked, looking at Joe.  
  
"Amelia Norway," Joe answered. "But she asked us to call her Amy. Why?"  
  
"The killer might be someone in your class," Collig pointed out. "How else would he know you had signed a slip of paper with these other students?"  
  
They talked about the case for a little longer then the Hardys left. Joe wanted to drive over and see Paula's dad, but Mr. Hardy insisted it was too soon to go and disturb him without proof Paula had been murdered.  
  
The next morning, Con called and asked if the boys could stop by the police station on their way to school. When they arrived, Con brought them up to date on his investigation. "Basically, all we have is the surveillance tape and the ballistics report," Con concluded. "Do you really believe this is connected to the Michaels' girl's death?" he asked them.  
  
"And Craig's," Joe added.  
  
"Craig Sommers," Frank expanded, then repeated what the chief had apparently told Con earlier.  
  
"Be careful," Con cautioned. "This guy may try to kill you again," he added to Joe.  
  
When they arrived at school, Callie was talking to Vanessa, who had made it to school because her mom's ankle had improved greatly in the past two days. Joe grabbed Vanessa and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, releasing her almost immediately so they wouldn't get into trouble.  
  
"Hi, guys," Callie said. "How's it going?"  
  
Frank told the girls about the attack on Joe last night and explained away the misunderstanding about Joe's alleged suicudal tendancies.  
  
"I'm so glad," Vanessa said in relief, smiling up into Joe's eyes. "But that means there's a murderer lose on campus," she added, her eyes clouding over.  
  
"Right," Joe agreed.  
  
"We need a favor," Frank asked the girls.  
  
"Name it," Callie told him.  
  
"Check the girl's bathroom and make sure no one's in there and then keep watch while Joe and I check it out?" Frank asked.  
  
"Okay," Callie and Vanessa agreed, leading the way. Frank and Joe went inside and searched the area, coming back out within five minutes.  
  
"No luck?" Vanessa inquired, seeing their dour expressions.  
  
"Nothing," Joe answered her. "George did too good a job cleaning it up," he added, referring to the school's janitor.  
  
"What now?" Callie asked.  
  
"Class?" Joe suggested casually as the bell rang.  
  
"We'll discuss a plan of action at lunch," Frank said. "And Joe," he added, grabbing his arm as the girl's left. "Be careful. This person killed a student here yesterday. I don't want you to be today's tragedy."  
  
"I will," Joe promised then took off for his Algebra class. The teens had already missed homeroom. During class, he decided to stop by and see Patty. When the bell rang, he headed straight for her office. The door was open and she was sitting at her desk looking at the computer monitor. He rapped lightly on the open door. "May I come in?" he asked.  
  
Patty turned around, saw who was standing in her doorway, and gave him a big smile. "Of course you may, Joe," she said.  
  
Joe came inside and closed the door behind him before sitting down int he chair beside her desk. "I know the purpose behind the Creative Expression class," he said, getting right to the point.  
  
"I suppose you found out from your brother?" she asked. Joe nodded. Patty sighed in disillusionment. "I thought he cared more about you than that," she said softly to herself, but Joe overheard her.  
  
"He cares a lot about me," Joe told her. "That's why I don't need this class."  
  
"So you want your study hall now?" she asked, her face grim.  
  
"No," Joe replied with a shake of his blond head. She looked at him in surprise. "Look," he continued. "I may be words in a textbook to someone who doesn't know me, but I am a really together type of guy. I know that no matter what I say or do, my family will always be there for me. If I have problems, Frank always picks up on them and we discuss them."  
  
"Then why don't you wnat out of the class?" she asked, her eyes narrowing on him.  
  
"Because I think I can help," Joe told her. "A couple of the kids already consider me a friend, and that's never a bad thing."  
  
"Okay," she said slowly. "If you don't believe you need the class but have decided to remain anyway, why are you here?"  
  
"Craig Sommers and Paula Michaels," Joe said. "We, that is, my brother, my father, and myself, believe they were murdered."  
  
"What?" she asked, her eyes flying open in shock. "Why would you think that?"  
  
"I don't have time to explain now," Joe replied. "But could Frank and I talk to you after school?"  
  
"Of course," she answered at once. "I'll be waiting here for you," she promised.  
  
"And thanks," Joe said standing up.  
  
"For what?" she asked.  
  
"For caring enough to put me in that class," he answered, giving her a smile before going to his next class.  
  
Frank, Callie, Chet, Tony, Liz, Phil, and Vanessa were already in the lunchroom at their ususal table when Joe and Biff arrived. Word had spread among the friends about the misunderstandings and the attack on Joe the previous evening. All were ready to help before anyone else could be hurt.  
  
Joe told them about seeing Patty. "I thought we could ask her about Paula and Craig after school. She should know as much as everyone else put together."  
  
"Good idea," Frank complimented his thinking. "I thought about asking Principal Dylan, but I like your idea better."  
  
"You two are going to stay together outside of school, aren't you?" Vanessa asked, looking at Joe with a worried frown.  
  
"Yeah," Joe replied, giving her a puzzled expression.  
  
"You don't still believe Joe would hurt himself, so you?" Chet demanded.  
  
"Of course not," she replied with a wave of her hand. "But there are three dead bodies and Joe's been attacked once already. What if the killer goes after Joe again?"  
  
"And what about Aaron, Tim, Fred, and Ralph?" Joe asked. "They were on the list too."  
  
"We have to warn them," Callie said, frowning.  
  
"I'll tell them in class this afternoon," Joe promised. "But how are we going to keep an eye on them?"  
  
"I can talk Fred into a game of hoops," Tony offered. "Then I can follow him home."  
  
"Good idea, except Joe was attacked at home," Frank pointed out. "And Craig, if it was murder."  
  
"And Paula was attacked here at school," Phil added. "Where they are doesn't seem to matter."  
  
"No, but it does mean the murderer is at school," Liz observed. "Maybe we could make sure everyone at least gets to their classes safely," she suggested.  
  
"It's a start," Frank agreed.  
  
"I can keep an eye on Tim today," Phil offered. "He's in all my classes except the last one."  
  
"I'll watch Aaron," Biff offered. Aaron was tough, but Biff was more than a match for him should Aaron get upset at having a shadow.  
  
"Fred's in two of my classes," Frank said. "I'll watch him."  
  
"And I'll cover Ralph," Joe said. "We've got the last two classes together."  
  
"And Tony and I can watch you," Chet said.  
  
"That's okay," Joe said, shaking his head. "I know what's going on and will have my guard up."  
  
The friends split up after lunch and found their respective prey. Frank followed Fred to his next class, then went to his own. He had just sat down when a scream rang out. He jumped to his feet and ran in the direction of the scream. Another scream resounded through the halls before Frank reached the doorway leading to the classroom Fred had entered.  
  
Frank came to a halt, grabbing onto the sides of the door frame to prevent himself from crashing into two girls who stood in the doorway, their books lying scattered on the floor at their feet.  
  
Frank stepped inside, pushing his way between the girls to find out why they had screamed as the hall behind him began to fill up with students.  
  
Fred sat at a lab table with his head lying on top. His face had been eaten away by acid which had been dispensed from a a glass vial lying less than an inch from his hand. 


	12. Chapter Twelve

The List  
Chapter Twelve  
  
"Everyone out!" Frank ordered, as he went over to Fred and felt for a pulse, knowing he wouldn't find one because Fred's eyes were staring sightlessly from their sockets.  
  
"Get Principal Dylan and call the police," Frank said, looking up and seeing Callie standing in the doorway with the other students. She nodded and took off.  
  
Principal Dylan arrived in a couple of minutes followed by Joe, whose shirt was covered in orange soda. The principal ordered everyone back to their classes and the students who were to have lab were sent to the gym with their teacher.  
  
"What happened?" Joe asked Frank.  
  
"I don't know," Frank answered, his face wearing a fearful expression. "I followed him to class. He came in and sat down and then I went to my class. I just had sat down when I heard a scream. Fred was like that when I got here."  
  
"Why were you following him?" Principal Dylan inquired. Frank and Joe took turns explaining about what had been going on for the past few days.  
  
"This wasn't an accident?" the principal asked in horror. "And you really think Paula was murdered too?" He shook his head, trying to take it in. "Would you two please wait here after the police have left?" he asked. "I think a faculty meeting is in order and you two should be present."  
  
"Of course," Frank agreed. The principal left the room to greet the police as cruisers pulled up outside with lights flashing.  
  
"What happened to you?" Frank asked, looking at Joe's soiled shirt.  
  
"Ralph didn't like being followed," Joe answered with a grimace. "I caught sight of him before we even left the lunchroom. He headed down the hall and ducked into the teacher's lounge. I opened the door to see what he was doing in there and he opened a can of soda in my face," Joe added, making another sour expression.   
  
"He told me if I followed him again, he would break both my arms. I tried to explain why I was following him, but he shoved me into the wall and told me to leave him alone." Joe shook his head. "He took off running and I didn't see him again until I was on my way here. He was in Mrs. Winebarger's class."  
  
"I hope the guys are having better luck than we are," Frank said.  
  
"Well, it will probably be a repeat of yesterday with the rest of classes being dismissed," Joe commented as the police entered the room. "And they won't have to deal with following them around school after all."  
  
The students were dismissed after the two girls who had found Fred were questioned. Two hours later, the scene had been secured and Fred's body taken to the morgue. Frank and Joe were asked to wait outside the teacher's lounge while they had a discussion and then were admitted inside.  
  
"Frank, Joe," Principal Dylan said. "I have talked with the superintendant and he has talked with the Board of Education. School is being postponed for the rest of the week. You two, however, are being granted, along with the authorities and your father, free reign over the grounds." He stopped speaking and looked over at Patty. She stood up and he sat down.  
  
"I have been asked to allow you access to the student files for the Creative Expression class," she informed them. "However, none of what you read or see is to be passed on to anyone not directly involved in the investigation."  
  
"We understand," Frank told her.  
  
Amy stood up as Patty returned to her chair. "Before you two do any more investigating into this, I would like to have a conference with Joe," she said.  
  
"Why?" Frank demanded.  
  
"Patty told me about Joe's chat with her earlier," she said, staring Frank in the eyes. "I want the killer caught, if there is one," she added, causing Frank's eyes to narrow while Joe's shot open in surprise. "After I have talked with Joe and am convinced his encounter with the gas was not of his own making, then I will cooperate fully with your investigation. If not, then I will only cooperate with the authorities."  
  
"Wait a minute," Frank said. "How did you know about the gas?"  
  
"My brother was one of the paramedics at your house," Amy informed him.  
  
"Well, let's get it over with," Joe said. "We've got a killer to catch."  
  
Amy stood up and came over to Joe. "We'll do this in Patty's office," she said, then left the room.  
  
Joe looked at Frank. "I'll call the guys and see if they know where any of the other kids from the class were when Fred was killed," Frank told him.  
  
"Pick me up later?" Joe asked.  
  
Frank shook his head. "I'm waiting on you," Frank asserted. "It isn't safe for you to be alone until we find this guy. I'll call the guys from the cafeteria."  
  
Joe nodded and left the lounge. Amy was waiting in the hall and together they walked down the hall to Patty's office.  
  
It was almost two hours before the door to Patty's office opened again. Frank, who had finished an hour ago and was sitting in the floor across from the office reading in his physics book, jumped to his feet as Amy stepped out.  
  
Amy grinned at Frank and shook her head. "I've never been so wrong about anyone before in my life," she told him. "Joe has already started looking at the files," she continued. "I'll be in the Creative Expression's class room when you finish."  
  
Frank put his book into his backpack and went in Patty's office. Joe was standing by the file cabinet, frowning. "What's wrong?" Frank asked, going to stand beside Joe.  
  
"They're not here," Joe said, pushing the file drawer closed and looking at Frank. "Mine, Paula's, Tim's, all the ones on the list are missing."  
  
"What about the other students in the class?" Frank inquired, pulling the drawer open again.  
  
"They are there," Joe admitted. "But...."  
  
"But only the prospective victim's files are absent," Frank finished Joe's sentence. "Well, let's check out the other students," Frank continued. "Everyone in your class is a suspect."  
  
"Yeah," Joe said, half-heartedly.  
  
"What?" Frank demanded. He hated when Joe got an idea and wouldn't spill it all at once.  
  
"We can't question these kids," Joe said, his worried blue eyes looking into Frank's questioning ones. "Patty and Amy were wrong about me, sure, but I don't think they were that far off on some of the others."  
  
"Fine, we won't question them," Frank promised. "But we do need to see if we can figure out what you, Fred, Paula, Craig, and the others on the suicide note have in common, if anything, that the other students in the class don't."  
  
"How is that going to find the killer?" Joe asked.  
  
"It may not," Frank said. "But we need to know why only seven of you were singled out."  
  
"There is an easy way to find out who is behind this," Joe said, nonchalantly, a few minutes later.  
  
"Oh?" Frank asked, looking up from Valerie's file.   
  
"I could...." Joe began.  
  
"NO!" Frank said forcefully, glaring at Joe. "You could not. If something went wrong, he would kill you," Frank continued, knowing exactly what Joe had been going to propose.  
  
"But..." Joe tried to interuppt to no avail.  
  
"No buts," Frank declared firmly. "You are not setting yourself up as bait. End of discussion!" he ordered, looking back down at Valerie's file, seething at Joe's blatant disregard for his own safety.  
  
They finished perusing the files and returned them to the cabinet. "We'll have to let Patty know some of her files are missing," Joe said as he and Frank left the office and headed toward Amy's class room.  
  
"Maybe she already knows," Frank said.  
  
"You don't suspect her, do you?" Joe demanded in disbelief. "The person who attacked me was definitely male."  
  
"Never heard of an accomplice?" Frank retorted. Seeing Joe about to argue, Frank continued. "Look, I'm not saying she is involved. All I am suggesting is, we shouldn't trust anyone related to this class until we do find the guilty party."  
  
"Not even Valerie?" Joe demanded. "She wasn't even in class the day we had the assignment."  
  
"Joe, please?" Frank begged. "You have to be careful."  
  
"I will be," Joe promised. "But I'm not about to turn on my friends," he added, stepping ahead of Frank and entering the class room. Frank bit his bottom lip in frustration and followed Joe inside.  
  
Amy could tell them nothing they didn't already know, so they went out to the van. "We still need to warn the other kids," Frank said, getting in the van behind the wheel. "We'll warn them on our way home."  
  
Joe frowned. "Besides me, there are only three left now," he said.  
  
"I know, baby brother," Frank said softly, glancing over at Joe. "We'll stop this guy before he can kill again," he promised.  
  
The first student's house they came to was Aaron Wissel's. The boys got out of the van and walked up to the door. "We don't want any!" a deep voice shouted from within after they had knocked.  
  
A man with oily black hair and a black beard came into view. He was dressed in black pants with a blue mechanic's uniform shirt on.  
  
"We're here to see Aaron," Joe told the man who looked so much like Aaron it had to be his father.  
  
"Who are you?" Mr. Wissel demanded, eyeing the boys suspiciously.  
  
"My name is Joe Hardy and this is my brother, Frank," Joe introduced themselves. "Aaron and I have a class together at Bayport High."  
  
Mr. Wissel opened the screen door and let the boys inside. "Down the hall, second door on the left," he told them before going back into the living room and sitting down in front of the television.  
  
Frank knocked on Aaron's door. Instead of the door opening, the sound of a chair being thrust under the knob on the other side could be heard. Frank stepped back and prepared to kick the door in. Joe took off at a run out of the front door and around toward the side of the house where Aaron's window would be.  
  
As Frank's foot landed on the door with a crack, Mr. Wissel came running to the hallway. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded angrily, as Frank backed up and kicked at the door again.  
  
The door burst open and Frank ran into the room followed by Mr. Wissel. Both froze in shock as the face of Aaron stared at them in terror. He was standing, barefoot and tiptoe, bound and gagged, on a chair. A noose hung around his neck with the rope having been run through a bracket on the ceiling which had, moments before, held a plant, and ran down to the base of Aaron's desk where the rope was tied around the heavy base.  
  
At any second, Aaron was going to lose his balance and fall from the chair, hanging himself! 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

The List  
Chapter Thirteen  
  
Mr. Wissel rushed forward and grabbed his son's waist, holding him up until Frank could loosen the noose.  
  
When Frank removed the noose, Aaron fell over onto his dad's shoulder. Frank helped Mr. Wissel put Aaron on the bed and untied his hands while Mr. Wissel removed the gag.  
  
"He was going to kill me," Aaron said in shock. "He said he was going to untie me and take the gag out after I was dead and no one would know I had been murdered." Aaron looked at Frank, noticing him for the first time. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Joe and I..." Frank began but broke off, as he realized Joe must have gone after the killer. "I'll be back," he promised. "Call the police," he added, taking off at a run.  
  
Joe had reached the side of the house in time to see the masked intruder jump from the window sill to the ground. He turned, saw Joe, and reached into the waist of his pants where Joe saw the end of a gun protruding.   
  
A loud crash came from the room inside and the killer seemed to change his mind. He turned and fled with Joe in hot pursuit. Joe chased him down the street to where he jumped on a motorcycle and took off. Joe shook his head in disgust and headed back. He met Frank at the corner and the two of them returned to the Wissels.  
  
"What's going on?" Mr. Wissel demanded, glaring at Frank and Joe as they entered. "First the police tell me my son has joined some suicide club and then someone tries to killl him." Joe explained to the man about the note and the other murders.  
  
"You're on that list too, then," Aaron said, his eyes narrowing on Joe.  
  
"Yeah, and our friend chloroformed me and stuck my head in a gas oven last night," Joe told him with a grimace.  
  
Frank and Joe waited with the Wissels until the police arrived. They gave their statements and left, heading for Tim's house. No one was home there, so Frank and Joe drove over to Ralph's. Again, no one was home.  
  
"We'll just have to try and call them," Joe said, getting back in the van. He buckled up as Frank got behind the wheel. "I think I'll go over that security tape some more," Joe said. "Maybe if I watch it enough, I can find out why the thief looks so familiar," he ended as Frank started the engine.  
  
When they got home, Frank went in his dad's office where Mr. Hardy sat behind his desk at the computer. Joe went into the living room and put the security tape in the VCR.  
  
Joe picked up the remote and hit play as the phone rang. "I'll get it!" He shouted, clicking the pause button. "Hello," he answered.  
  
"What happened at school?" Vanessa's voice came through. Joe told her about Fred's murder and the attempted murder on Aaron.  
  
"Frank never called you earlier?" he asked, his forehead wrinkling into a frown.  
  
"I was with my mom at the doctor's," she explained. "She got the bandages off her ankle."  
  
"That's great!" Joe enthused.  
  
"Yeah," Vanessa agreed, still not sounding chipper. "Be careful," Vanessa begged him. "This guy has tried killing you when you were alone, but now he'll know he can't get away with the suicide thing anymore after what he pulled with Aaron," she said.  
  
"Which means, he'll just try to kill the rest of us without faking the suicides," Joe caught on to what she was implying. "Don't worry. I don't think Frank is going to be too far away from me until we wrap this up." He spoke with her for a few more minutes then hung up. The VCR had long since stopped so he decided to call Tim and Ralph and warn them.  
  
No one had gotten home at Tim's so he called Ralph. "Yeah?" Ralph answered the phone.  
  
"Don't hang up," Joe said. "The reason I was following you earlier was because there is a murderer loose on campus and you are on the list of victims," he said in a rush before Ralph could hang up on him.  
  
There was silence for a minute, but Joe heard breathing and knew Ralph was still there. "What list?" Ralph finally asked.  
  
Joe related enough of the case to impart the danger Ralph was in. "What are you doing about it?" Ralph sneered. "You're the detective on campus."  
  
Joe closed his eyes and silently counted to ten before replying. "Frank and I are working on it," he told Ralph. "I know who he is, well, kind of," Joe amended. "But until we get him, just be careful."  
  
"How long?" Ralph demanded.  
  
"I don't know," Joe answered slowly, his patience with Ralph depleted. "I'm working on it now," he added, hitting the play button on the VCR. "Just be careful for the time being," he said before hanging up the phone.  
  
Joe tried Tim again. This time, the phone was answered by a woman. "Hello, is Tim there?" Joe asked.  
  
"Who is this?" inquired a frazzled voice.  
  
"Joe Hardy," he informed her. "Could I speak with Tim please?"  
  
"He isn't here," Ms. Wyman answred.  
  
"Do you know where he went or what time he'll be back?" Joe asked.  
  
"He left a note saying he would be home in time for dinner," she answered. "You can call back in about an hour," she suggested.  
  
"All right. I will. Thanks," Joe said. He hung up the phone and went into the living room to watch the tape. By the time Frank and Mr. Hardy came downstairs, Joe had the viewing narrowed down to just a few seconds.  
  
"Find something?" Frank asked, sitting down beside Joe.  
  
"It's his eyes," Joe said, hitting the rewind button while it was in play and then play again. "Watch."  
  
"I don't see anything unusual," Frank said.  
  
"Not unusual, exactly," Joe said. "Just familar. I know I've seen those eyes do that before."  
  
"Do what?" Mr. Hardy asked, leaning onto the back of the couch behind his sons.  
  
Joe rewound the tape again. "Where he stops and looks over at the guard before he kills him."  
  
"That's what makes you think you know him?" Frank inquired, lifting an eyebrow.  
  
"Yeah," Joe said dejectedly, leaning back and hitting stop on the remote.  
  
"Don't give up," Mr. Hardy said, squeezing Joe's shoulder encouragingly.  
  
"What's our next move?" Joe asked, tilting his head back and looking up at his dad.  
  
"Powwow?" Frank asked, shooting a look at his dad.  
  
Mr. Hardy furrowed his brow. "It would be a good idea for Joe and the others to get together and watch the tape. Maybe they all know this person and one of them can recognize him."  
  
"Ms. Wyman said Tim wouldn't be back for about another hour," Joe said, and told them about his phone calls. "Right, then," Mr. Hardy said. "Frank, go pick up Aaron and Ralph, then swing by and pick up Tim after that. He should be home by then." Frank nodded.  
  
"I'm going down to headquarters and see if Con has come up with anything else on the robbery," Mr. Hardy continued.  
  
"What about me?" Joe asked as Frank stood up.  
  
"Stay here," Mr. Hardy ordered. "Turn on the alarm when we leave, and stay away from the windows."  
  
"Wouldn't it be safer if Joe just came with me?" Frank inquired.  
  
"It would," Mr. Hardy admitted. "But Kevin Miller is supposed to drop over this evening."'  
  
"Wasn't Miller a fence?" Frank asked.  
  
"He was," agreed Mr. Hardy. "But he has been straight ever since he got out of prison last year. He told me someone had approached him and tried to get him to move some of the stolen jewelry. Someone has to be here when he stops in and Joe's safer alone here than he would be going to pick the others up or on his way to the police station."  
  
"I wish we could wait until mom got back," Frank said.  
  
"Relax," Mr. Hardy told his son. "She may be back before we are."  
  
Mr. Hardy left, promising to be back soon. Frank started out, then turned and gave Joe a stern look. "Burglar alarm," he said. "Now."  
  
Joe grinned. "Yes, Sir," he said, standing up straight and giving Frank a sharp salute.  
  
Frank rolled his eyes and left. Joe walked into the kitchen and turned on the alarm system.  
  
"You can turn it back off," came a low voice from the doorway behind him. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

The List  
Chapter Fourteen  
  
Joe spun around and saw a black clad figure holding a gun on him. "How are you planning on faking my death this time?" Joe asked with more bravado than he felt.  
  
"No more faking," the person replied, his voice hauntingly familiar even though he was obviously trying to disguise it. "After all, there's no longer a need for it."  
  
"What do you mean?" Jeo asked, his eyes narrowing.  
  
"I'm not stupid," he spat at Joe. "I know when I'm losing."  
  
"So, you're here to turn yourself in?" Joe inquired.  
  
A harsh laugh erupted from behind the mask. "Oh no, my friend," he told Joe. "I'm here for insurance."  
  
"Insurance?" Joe asked in confusion.  
  
"You," stated Joe's uninvited guest.  
  
"Who are you?" Joe demanded.  
  
"Haven't figured it out yet, bright boy?" the intruder sneered. Joe didn't answer. "Turn around and flip the alarm back off," Joe was ordered with a wave of the gun.  
  
Joe turned around, reached up, and turned the alarm off. "Where are you taking me?" Joe had time to ask before he felt the butt of the gun smash onto the back of his head. Joe fell to the floor unconscious.  
  
When Joe came to, he couldn't move, see or speak. Something had been shoved into his mouth and then it had been taped. His eyes had tape around them and Joe dreaded taking it off because it had been wrapped firmly all around his head, clinging tightly to his hair covered scalp.  
  
His legs were spread apart but his ankles had been secured to something, he couldn't decide what, that wouldn't allow him to budge. His back was resting against what felt like a pipe of some kind and his arms had been brought behind and his wrists taped together.  
  
He could even feel layers of tape wrapping his chest and arms tightly to the pipe. He had no idea where he was but he did know one thing. If he wasn't rescued, he would never get free.  
  
Trying to keep calm, he thought about the case. But, instead of trying to remember the eyes of the killer, he decided to replay the last few days in his mind--but in reverse. Beginning with the kitchen surprise, he began his trip back through time.  
  
When Frank arrived home, Miller was sitting on the front steps. Frank frowned as he climbed out of the van. Miller jumped to his feet and came running over. "Do you people always leave when you're expecting someone?" he demanded angrily.  
  
"Joe's here," Frank told him. "Why didn't you knock?"  
  
"I..." Miller started, but broke off as a blue sedan pulled in beside the van and Mr. Hardy got out.  
  
"I did knock," Miller said when Mr. Hardy reached them. "Both doors. Several times, but no...." he broke off again as Frank and Mr. Hardy took off at a run for the house.  
  
"I've got the front," Mr. Hardy said, pulling out his keys. Frank took off for the back, removing his keys from his pocket as he went.  
  
When Frank got inside, he could hear his dad running up the stairs. Frank left the kitchen and headed through the dining room toward the living room, but something on the dining room table caught his eye.  
  
Frank walked over and picked it up. "Dad!" he yelled, racing from the dining room through the living room to the bottom of the stairs where Miller had come inside and waited, a curious look on his face.  
  
Mr. Hardy came to the top of the stairs and looked down, his fear for Joe evident on his face. "He's kidnapped Joe," Frank said, looking up at his father with bright eyes.  
  
Mr. Hardy raced down the steps and took the sheet of paper from Frank's hand and read the scribbled message.  
If you want to see Joe again, stop all investigation on the high school murders and the   
jewelry store robbery.  
  
"Dad?" Frank asked.  
  
Mr. Hardy shook his head at Frank, then turned to Miller. "Please call the police and ask to speak with Sergeant Con Riley. Tell him what you had planned to tell me."  
  
"Okay," Miller agreed, looking at Mr. Hardy's face closely. "Don't you want to know about it?" he asked.  
  
"I refuse to put my son's life in jeopardy," Mr. Hardy asserted. "Just see Sergeant Riley, please," he requested, ushering the man outside.  
  
Mr Hardy turned and looked at Frank after Miller had gone. "Where are the other three boys?" he asked.  
  
Frank shook his head. "I don't know," he replied. "Mr. Wissel said Aaron was in his room, but when I looked, he was gone. Tim hadn't gotten home or called. His mom called some of his friends, but they hadn't seen him since school. And no one was at Ralph's place," Frank concluded.  
  
If possible, Mr. Hardy's face grew even darker. He leaned close to Frank's ear. "The hosue may be bugged," he said. "Go to Callie's and call everyone together. I'll be along soon and let everyone know what they can do to help."  
  
Frank nodded and turned to leave but paused and turned back around. "Where did mom go?" he whispered.  
  
"She went to the Perry's," Mr. Hardy informed him. "Sarah Perry is an old friend of your mother's."  
  
"I bet they are really messed up about Fred's murder," Frank said quietly, thinking not only about Fred and the others who had died but also the ones who were missing, especially Joe.  
  
Frank drove to Callie's and parked the van. By the time he reached the steps, Callie had opened the door and was waiting for him to ascend.  
  
"I thought you would be working on the case," she commented, opening the screen door so he could enter.  
  
"I am," Frank replied. "Joe's missing," he said, causing Callie to gasp. "And so are the other three boys on the list," he added. "Dad thinks our place may be bugged, so he wants us to call everyone and have them meet here, if that's all right?"  
  
"Callie, get your cel phone and call the girls," Mr. Shaw ordered from the entryway to the living room. He had overheard Frank and intended to help. "Frank, you can use the living room phone and call the guys. I'll go help Karen fix some sandwiches," he added, leaving the room.  
  
"My dad likes you and Joe," Callie told Frank, smiling.  
  
"It's mutual," Frank replied as Callie ran up the stairs to get her phone.  
  
In less than an hour, all the Hardy's closest friends were gathered in the living room of Callie's house. Mr. Hardy had just arrived and now everyone sat waiting expectantly.  
  
Mr. Hardy and Frank brought everyone up to date on the case. Mr. Hardy concluded with some disturbing news even Frank hadn't heard. "Tim Wyman's body was found floating in the Bayport River less than fifteen minutes ago," he said solemly.  
  
Mr. Hardy looked at Frank, his face apologetic. "I know what the note said," he told Frank. "But this person is leaving no witnesses. Whether we try and find him or not, he's going to kill Joe, if he hasn't already."  
  
Frank swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding his head in agreement. Callie took his hand and squeezed it in silent support.  
  
"I called Chief Collig," Mr. Hardy continued. "Since Aaron nor Ralph have turned up, and considering the circumstances, an APB has been put out on them without the nessecary twenty-four hour waiting period. Also, their homes are being searched on the off chance our killer dropped a clue at one of their houses."  
  
"What do you want us to do?" Vanessa asked him.  
  
"Vanessa, Callie, Liz, I would like you girls to meet with Principal Dylan, Patty, and Amy at the school. Go through lockers and files of all the students who are in the Creative Expression class. They are waiting on you," Mr. Hardy told them.  
  
"Right," Vanessa said, standing up and wiping the tears from her eyes. "We'll go in my car," she told the others who agreed with the plan.  
  
"Call here if you find out anything," Mr. Shaw said. "We'll be the base of operations," he added, glancing over at Mr. Hardy who smiled with gratitude.  
  
"Phil, you and Biff, head down to the jewelry shop. Talk to Mr. Parrapet again. Maybe you can find something the police missed," Mr. Hardy ordered.   
  
"Tony and Chet, I want you two to go to the Sommers and see what you can find out about Craig's death. Did he have any visitors or calls," Mr. Hardy ordered the two.  
  
"Frank, go back home," he told his son. "We didn't look for clues to Joe's abduction. And check Joe's things," he added. "There may be something in his backpack or notebook about the class he may have missed."  
  
"I'm on my way," Frank said, standing up. "What are you going to do?" Frank asked after the others had left.  
  
"I'm going down to Kevin Miller's pawn shop," Mr. Hardy answered. "Con told me what Miller had told him. There's a strong possibility he can identify the killer. I borrowed your yearbook," he added, getting in his own car.  
  
"Well, Big Man," sneered the killer in Joe's ear. "Know who I am yet?"  
  
Knowing it didn't matter if he knew or not, Joe nodded. Joe felt the tape ripped from his mouth and he spat out the thing in his mouth.  
  
"Okay, Big Man, who am I?" the voice demanded.  
  
"R...Ralph," Joe whispered, his throat dry.  
  
"Maybe you've got more brains than I gave you credit for," Ralph said, running the blunt part of a butcher's knife across Joe's cheek.  
  
"Do you know why I singled you and those other kids out?" Ralph demanded.  
  
"The ring," Joe relplied. "The stolen ring from the jewelry store. You put it on the desk in class that day. Then you knocked the chair behind me over so everyone would look away while you hid it," Joe said. "But that wasn't good enough. You weren't sure if any of us had seen it, so you decided to kill us."  
  
"That's right," Ralph agreed.  
  
"But why the suicide angle?" Joe asked, his head tilted to one side. "You didn't bother with Craig."  
  
"That's because I didn't know what kind of class it was until I overheard your brother telling someone about it and how worried he was about you," Ralph said.  
  
"But you screwed up when you tried it with me," Joe told him. "I would never kill myself."  
  
Ralph smacked Joe hard across the face then shoved the wad of cloth back into Joe's mouth and covered it with tape again.  
  
"You may have figured it all out," Ralph snarled. "But no one else will." He grabbed Joe's shirt and cut the top of it with the knife, then used his hands to rip it the rest of the way.  
  
"Your dad and brother don't follow instructions very well," Ralph told Joe. "It's time to teach them a little lesson in the course I like to call Killing Blondie 101."  
  
Ralph brought the knife to the base of Joe's throat and began a downward cut, ending at Joe's navel. When he had finished, the knife, Joe's chest and the ragged edges of Joe's shirt were covered in blood. 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

The List  
  
Chapter Fifteen  
  
Joe winced in pain as he felt the tip of the knife slide down his chest. Soon, he felt the sticky substance of his blood clinging to the hairs on his chest. 'Ralph didn't cut deep,' he thought. 'He must still need me.' A couple of minutes later, Joe heard a door shut and lock, then silence.  
  
Fank pulled to a stop in his driveway and got out. "Oh, Frank," he heard a voice shout at him. He turned around and saw Mrs. Winebarger coming down the street toward him.  
  
Frank stood still, waiting for her. "I wanted to thank your dear mother for her help," she said to Frank, holding out a covered dish. "I made a strawberry-rhubbarb pie for your family," she said.  
  
"Thank you," Frank said, taking the dish and smiling. Next to apple pie, strawberry-rhubbarb was his favorite.  
  
"I just don't understand why that boy did it," Mrs. Winebarger stated, her face troubled.  
  
"What boy?" Frank inquired.  
  
"That young boy with red hair," she said. "He's the one who told me how wonderful your mother's garden was," she continued. "But, I talked with Mary next door, and she said she saw him running away from my garden with dirt all over his hands."  
  
Frank's smile had vanished, but now a ray of hope could be seen in his eyes. "Would you know him if you saw him again?" Frank asked her.  
  
"Well, of course I would recognize Ralph if I saw him again," she told him.  
  
"Ralph?" Fank asked.  
  
"Why, yes," she said. "Mary reminded me he was Albert Hays' son."  
  
"Mrs. Winebarger, would you please call the police and tell them what you've just told me?" he asked, excited.  
  
"Why, of course," she argued. "But why?"  
  
"It's a long story," he told him. "But it's very important."  
  
"I'll call at once," she promised, hurrying back to her house as Frank went inside his.  
  
As soon as Frank walked inside, he set the pie down and picked up the phone and dialed the Shaws. "Let everyone know when they check in, Ralph Hays is the killer," he told Mr. Shaw. "And call the school and let the girls know," he added.  
  
"What are you going to do?" Mr. Shaw inquired.  
  
"I'm heading over to Ralph's now," Frank said. "When the guys call, have them meet me there."  
  
Frank had decided to take his motorcycle to Ralph's before he had hung up the phone. He thought it would be much faster. He picked up the pie and walked into the kitchen, planning on putting the pie in the fridge on his way out.   
  
When he walked through the door into the kitchen, his eyes widened and his body froze in terror. Ralph, still wearing a mask, stood on the other side of the kitchen table. In his hand was a butcher knife covered in blood.  
  
"You should have stopped," Ralph hissed, his hazel eyes locked on Frank's brown ones.  
  
"No," whispered Frank, throwing the pie at Ralph's face and rushing forward.  
  
Ralph ducked the pie and tipped the table over, causing Frank to fall. By the time Frank had regained his footing, Ralph was gone.  
  
Frank called the police department and was patched through to Con, who was at Miller's Pawn Shop with Mr. Hardy. Frank told them about Ralph and the bloody knife.  
  
"Stay put," ordered Mr. Hardy. "We're on our way."  
  
"No," Frank said. "I'm going to Ralph's place. He may have Joe hidden there somewhere."  
  
"Be careful," Mr. Hardy told Frank. "Someone just found Aaron's body lying inside the fence at the Hillside cemetery."  
  
"I...I'll be careful," Frank promised, more scared than he had ever been. Any hope of finding Joe alive fading away.  
  
When Frank arrived at Ralph's house, Tony and Chet were already there, having found the Sommers' too distraught to be of any assistance.  
  
"What are we looking for?" Chet asked. "Your dad said the police were searching this place earlier."  
  
"I know," Frank replied, his mouth set in a grim line and his face hard. "But they were looking for a connection to the killer via Amy's class. We're looking for a clue as to where he is hiding Joe." Chet and Tony exchanged glances. Neither of them believed Joe was still alive.  
  
Frank knocked on the door while Chet and Tony stood quietly behind him. The door opened and a tall man with beady green eyes and a red beard glowered at the three boys. "What do you want?" he barked at the trio.  
  
"Your son has killed seven people," Frank said, staring the man in the eyes. "The first was the guard at the jewelry store which he robbed."  
  
"You're off your rocker!" Mr. Hayes stormed as a police cruiser, lights flashing, pulled up in front of the house.  
  
Con and Mr. Hardy got out of the car and joined the boys on the porch. "I'd like to see Ralph Hayes," Con told the man.  
  
"Why?" Mr. Hayes asked, fearfully glancing at the three boys. "You people have already looked here. You said he wasn't a victim."  
  
"We said he was on the list of victims," Con corrected him. "Now, he is a suspect and I intend to take him down to headquarters for questioning."  
  
"He ain't here!" Mr. Hayes said firmly.  
  
"Then where is he?" Frank demanded.  
  
"Mr. Hayes, you do realize that if you know where he is and you don't tell us, then you will become an accessory to seven, possibly eight, counts of murder?" Con asked the man.  
  
"I...I'm not sure where he is," Mr. Hayes said, his gaze falling down to his shoes. "He came home earlier, then left. He likes to hang out down by the old Mertz' warehouse."  
  
"Thank you, Sir," Con said as another cruiser pulled up behind the first. "These officers have a warrant to search the premises," he added as the two officers got out and came to the door.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Mr. Hayes said, pushing the screen door open and letting them enter.  
  
Mr. Hardy, Con, Frank, Chet, and Tony all headed out to the Mertz' warehouse. They parked roughly a quarter of a mile away and hiked silently to the building. Frank peered through a window and saw Ralph was there with the stolen loot from the jewelry store. His heart sank when he never saw Joe. He returned to the others and told them what he saw. Con radioed in for backup, then spilt the group up to cover both entrances to the warehouse.   
  
The group rushed inside. Ralph looked up, shock and disbelief at having been found filling his features. He pulled out his gun but Mr. Hardy, who along with Con, had entered with their guns drawn, fired a shot, hitting Ralph in the shoulder.   
  
Ralph dropped the gun as the searing pain started. He moved backwards, trying to make a break for it, but Frank and Chet had moved in and captured his arms before he could escape.  
  
"Let go of me!" Ralph snarled.  
  
"It's over," Con told him. "You're under arrest."  
  
"Not if you want to see Joe alive again," Ralph said, his eyes narrowing on Mr. Hardy. "He's alive, just a little bloody is all. But if you don't release me, he won't be alive much longer."  
  
"Where is he?" Frank demanded, squeezing Ralph's wounded arm.  
  
"No way, Hardy," Ralph told him, smiling in spite of his pain. "You let me go and I'll release him. If you don't, I'll tell you were to find his body next week."  
  
"Why next week?" Tony demanded.  
  
"Cause it takes at least three days to die of thirst," Ralph answered. "What's it to be?" he asked, looking at Mr. Hardy. "How badly do you want your son back?"  
  
"You've already killed seven people," Mr. Hardy said, his face full of pain. "I'd be a fool to believe you haven't already killed Joe."  
  
"You're not a fool," Ralph said. "Just the man who is killing his own son."  
  
Con pulled Ralph away from the distraught group and read him his rights, putting the cuffs on him. "You're going to a hospital and then to jail," Con told him. "If Joe is still alive, your only chance of getting out in this lifetime is to tell us where he is."  
  
Ralph laughed. "Next week," he said, grinning. Con led Ralph outside to where four squad cars had arrived. He was taken away in one and the rest of the officers entered the warehouse. A search of the building found all the missing loot, but no sign of Joe.  
  
It was a sad group that left the warehouse that night. Frank shivered and looked up as he exited the building. The evening sky was dark. Even the moon had hidden from view.  
  
Not wanting the Hardys to be alone, Chet, Biff, Tony, Phil, Callie, and Vanessa were all gathered in the living room at the Hardy home later that evening. Chief Collig had just called and told them Ralph had confessed to the murders, burglary, messing up Mrs. Winebarger's garden, even breaking into Callie's. But he refused to admit killing Joe, insiting he would tell where to find his body next week.  
  
The thunder boomed and lightening lit up the night sky as the Hardys and their friends huddled together saying silent prayers for Joe.   
  
Callie was holding Frank, who couldn't stop the flow of tears which had started on his way home from the warehouse.  
  
Vanessa sat beside Mrs. Hardy, the two crying and hugging each other while Mr. Hardy stood at the living room window, staring sightlessly into the night.  
  
The others were all in various stages of shock. Each consummed with a deep loss.  
  
Thunder cracked again and the room was plunged into darkness save for the second of light from the turbulent night sky.  
  
Frank stood up. "There are some candles in the basement," he said. "I'll get them." He hurried off before anyone could offer to help. He appreciated his friends being there, but right now, he needed to be alone.  
  
He took the flashlight that was kept on a hook by the basement door and reached to open it. Vaguely surprised to find it locked, he moved the dead bolt and descended the stairs. He shone the light on the floor in front of him so as not to trip over anything. He was about halfway across the basement when the light hit something causing him to come to a complete standstill, his heart almost stopping it's rhymatic beating.  
  
"Joe," Frank whispered, rushing forward and kneeling down beside the treasure the light had found.  
  
Frank quickly removed the tape and gag from Joe's mouth. "Are you okay?" Frank asked softly, fresh tears sliding down his cheeks. This time, however, they were tears of joy.  
  
His mouth too dry to answer, Joe nodded his head. Frank looked at the wound on his brother's chest. "It doesn't look too bad, but you do need to have it cleaned," Frank told Joe, pulling out his pocket knife and starting to cut the tape from his brother's arms. Frank took the tape off and could see where Ralph had started cutting Joe near his throat and gone straight down to his navel. The area where the tape had been revealing the only uncut skin in the path.  
  
"Ra...ra.." Joe tried to speak but Frank held a finger to Joe's lips.  
  
"Ralph's in jail," Frank told him. "He gave a full confession for the robbery and the murders. We just...." he broke off, taking a deep breath and sniffing. "We just couldn't find you," he finally said, slicing the tape which held Joe's wrists together.  
  
Joe reached up and began trying to free his eyes and hair from the tape as Frank tackled the tape binding Joe's left ankle to another pipe.  
  
"Frank!" His father's voice called down from the top of the steps. "Do you need some help?"  
  
Joe was having a hard time placing the voice which was so heavy with emotion, but Frank never had that problem. "Yes, Dad!" he shouted, his tone jubilant.  
  
Mr. Hardy came down the steps as fast as he could with only the flshlight to guiide him. "Thank God!" he shouted, seeing Joe in the beam of light.  
  
Joe finished removing the tape and blinked into the beam from his dad's flashlight. Mr. Hardy quickly lowered it and came to Joe. He fell to his knees and pulled Joe to him in a tight hug.  
  
Joe smiled at his father when he was released. Frank finished removing the tape from Joe's other ankle and they helped him to stand up.  
  
Joe's eyes widened in surprsie as he saw familiar items when the beams of light hit them. Frank put one of Joe's arms around his neck while Mr. Hardy did the same with Joe's other arm. Together, they half carried Joe, who was feeling the familiar twang of pins and needles associated with the reawakening of his legs, up the steps.  
  
"Did you get the candles?" Callie asked, coming into the kitchen where the basement entrance was located. "JOE!" she screamed. Seconds later, the entryway was filled with family and friends.  
  
Vanessa, seeing Joe couldn't talk, filled a glass with water and brought it to him. He smiled gratefully and took several sips, the first couple hurting his dry throat. He finally tipped the glass up and devoured the contents.  
  
"He needs to go to the hospital," Mrs. Hardy asserted.  
  
"I'm fine," Joe assured everyone. "The cut isn't deep. Frank said you got Ralph?"  
  
Frank and Mr. Hardy were taking turns telling Joe about Ralph's capture, but it wasn't more than five minutes before Mrs. Hardy told them to be quite. Joe had fallen asleep.   
  
"There will be plenty of time to tell him after he has had the wound cleaned and gotten some rest," she told them.  
  
In total agreement, all the friends left after helping Joe upstairs to bed where Mrs. Hardy took care of Joe's chest, while Mr. Hardy called the police and told them they had found Joe.  
  
Soon, Mr. and Mrs. Hardy went to bed and Frank sat curled up in a chair by Joe's bed. Tomorrow would find them at the police station pressing charges and gathering with friends to exchange stories. All would be normal once again. But for tonight, Frank wasn't leaving Joe's side.  
  
End 


End file.
